Where's Williams? Life after Prestatyn

[EvilDave]

On 2/1/2017 at 19:26, GioGio85 said:

Saw this on my Facebook feed today and it reminded me of this tale...

Thanks Gio, the things that make us think eh? I'd like to imagine Owain having similar things written about him with the title in the bag, but we'll see!
--

For the next week, with the players still away on their break, every hour in the office was spent with Clint discussing player movements. Speaking to the man, you might be forgiven for assuming he was the classic all-American ‘jock’ type - his Texan drawl not doing him any favours on that front. However, I couldn’t help but be impressed by his knowledge - he had clearly worked hard to make sure he earned the new role, even though his standing with the fans meant he could have walked into any role in the club other than mine. He was a lot louder than Chris - which was not a difficult battle to win - but his opinions seemed just as informed.

In many respects, they matched up well with my own. Within that first week, the club brought in just short of $20 million with the departure of just three players, the most surprising sale being that of MLS Cup final hero Nicolas Guathier. He had one year left on his contract, and was demanding a Designated Player deal to extend it any further. With Cosgriff and Salcedo playing the position well and other targets lined up, an eight-figure bid from AZ Alkmaar was easy enough to accept, and Gauthier crossed the Atlantic for the second time in a year with our blessings and gratitude. He considered it a step up, we were grateful of the fee - everybody won.

Also winging their way to European shores, this time as a pair, were fringe attacking midfielder London Leonard and Javier Cardenas. Both had featured heavily in rotation during my first season in Seattle, but with Cacau, Reus, Sibandze and now especially Cho ahead of them in the pecking order, it was hard to see a reason to turn down the advances of their suitors. Surprisingly, it was Greece which eventually took their fancy - both had offers from the Czech Republic, Germany and Switzerland, and signed for PAOK in a double deal which netted us a little shy of $7 million.

With those three sales, we had some space both in the squad and in the salary cap - once we had filed the papers with the league to move some of our swelling transfer allocation into our wage bull. That meant that the following week we took advantage of our scouts’ good work, snapping up Atlante’s Mexican holding man Adrian Romo for free at the end of his contract, and then agreeing a Young Designated Player - cheap at just $15,000 per week - with highly-promising River Plate youngster Christian Bustos. At 23 years old he felt it was time to spread his wings and get out of Argentina, and we felt his creative talents would make him the perfect replacement for the ageing legs of Marco Reus behind the strikers. Having made his mind up to leave his old club, he was another who cost us absolutely nothing, and so we retained plenty of room to manoeuvre.

With the new season starting in March and January already at an end, we didn’t have a huge amount of time if we wanted to make sweeping changes to the squad, but as defending champions and with a well-balanced line-up already, I did not expect too many more changes in the near future. We had six friendlies lined up through February - all against local lower-league outfits - and Clint’s activity levels were beginning to level out at something a little more sustainable. We seemed well set, and in good time too

[EvilDave]

 

“Well darling, what’s the news?”

I had been out of town watching my Sounders cruise to a comfortable 4-0 win over Puget Sound Gunners in the third of our six pre-season warm-ups, but had kept one eye on my phone throughout the trip. Rachel’s MBA results had been due at noon, and I still hadn’t heard anything by the time we boarded the bus back at 6pm. I couldn’t wait any longer.

“I passed it Owain, I passed it! I was going to wait until you got home, but I passed it! I’m so relieved.”

I couldn’t help but break into a broad smile. In my mind there had been very little doubt that my wife would take to her chosen course in the same way she had taken to the business world - with resounding success - but she was not the most confident in her abilities, and this would give her a much-deserved boost in that regard.

“Congratulations darling, that’s great news - I always knew you’d breeze through. When do you graduate?”

“At the end of April - with a distinction, no less.”

I could hear Rachel beaming down the line, and the confidence in her voice. She had not only passed, but with flying colours, and would be deservedly honoured as such.

“That’s brilliant, I’m so proud of you. Have you made any plans to celebrate tonight?”

“Thank you darling. I’m going out for a meal with a couple of the other older students in town soon, so there might just be a babysitter when you get back.”

“OK, that’s fine. Tell you what, make sure you keep tomorrow clear…”

“I’m finished now, what would I be doing?”

“I don’t know what you get up to in your spare time, do I? Just keep it clear, I’ll give Jide the training session for tomorrow and we’ll go enjoy ourselves for the day. It’s not every day your wife aces an MBA you know, I don’t want to miss out!”

“Well you did marry a genius after all. OK, I’ll clear my incredibly busy schedule for tomorrow, and you can treat me to lunch. How does that sound?”

“It sounds perfect, and you have a good time tonight darling. Well done again, I love you.

[EvilDave]

 

Rachel’s academic success meant she would have plenty more decisions to make in the near future - at 44 and with no ties binding her to a particular job, she would no doubt be in high demand in the local business scene if that was the route she chose to go - but that was something we could treat lightly. She had already found success in Australia, first with a firm and then as her own boss, and we were hardly close to the bread line, so she had the freedom to do what she felt she would actually enjoy doing.

Back with the Sounders, we wrapped up February with a perfect record of six wins from six friendlies, conceding just two goals in the process - both in an entertaining 6-2 win over local outfit Crossfire - and with the new players integrated into the squad, we were ready for the start of the new MLS season. We’d kick things off in LA against the Galaxy, and if we could recall the performance that saw us put five past them on my Sounders debut, I’d be a happy man.

Before then, we welcomed two more men into the club thanks to Clint’s efforts on the free market. Waivers once again proved a happy hunting ground for us, as first we convinced defensive midfielder and twice-capped US international Josh Edwards to swap Chicago for Seattle, and then picked up goalkeeper Francisco Santiago from FC Dallas. He rivalled Tierney in his skillset, and so when last season’s starter went down injured just three days before the season opener, he was ready and raring to go.

With the arrival of Santiago, combined with the presence of Tierney and young prospects Sassano and Short, there was no longer any room in the side for Philip Johnstone, who saw the writing on the wall and asked, just days before the squad confirmation date, whether we’d be happy to cancel his contract. As he’d asked so nicely - and we no longer required his services - I was happy to oblige, and a few days later he wound up signing with the New York Cosmos. Without being harsh, they were more his level, and I wished him every success with his new side.

For those of us who remained, however, we had the small matter of the opening game of the 2025 MLS season to contend with, and the beginning of our title defence to boot. The Galaxy were now the second-highest earners in the league - our signing of Cho had pushed us past them to the top of the payroll league - but had endured a tough 12 months and needed to get back into the play-offs to restore their fans’ faith in the side.

In fairness to the California club, they pushed us hard for the opening half hour, but once it became apparent that Santiago was not willing to spoil his clean sheet on debut, they created little else in the way of chances. Our new-look line-up - with debuts for Cho, Bustos and Edwards as well as our goalkeeper - struggled to get going, but once we clicked, we were never going to let the Galaxy take the three points.

It took 41 minutes for us to get the breakthrough, and the goal that earned it won a round of applause from Cacau on the bench. Once upon a time our Brazilian would have been first choice for set-pieces, but with Cho and Bustos starting he had to be content with a seat among the replacements, and could only watch as our Korean debutant sent a curling, dipping effort beyond the goalkeeper’s reach to put us 1-0 up going into the break.

This time, we were not quite fluent enough to inflict a hammering on our opening-day opponents, and so the scoreline remained deceptively close for the remainder of the game. By the time the final whistle blew, we had recorded more almost 70% of possession, limiting our hosts to just three shots on goal - only one of which required Santiago to make a save - and grabbing a second for good measure, Cho’s corner turned past his own goalkeeper by the unfortunate Carlos Canas five minutes from time. We had our win, our title defence was up and running, and regular service was resumed

[EvilDave]

 

Our second game also suggested that we were not at our free-flowing best - a scrappy, undeserved 1-0 win at home to Montreal courtesy of a Jon Shannon header - but the most important facts were the points on the board, and so travelling to Salt City Lake to take on Real, neither I nor Jide were too concerned with our relative lack of goals.

By the end of those 90 minutes, we still had no reason to be concerned. Inside the opening quarter hour Cho found the net for the second time in three games, while in the second half Shannon grabbed his second of the season and Josh Lisi, standing in for the injured Hunter Robertson, powered home a header from a free-kick for our third.

However, our young defender’s goal was not only necessary, but the unlikely culmination of a comeback from two goals down as our work at the other end of the pitch proved less than perfect. Five minutes before the interval we switched off to allow Victor Gonzalez the space to turn and fire home, and two minutes after it Jake Downing beat two men before slotting under Santiago.

That wasn’t all however, and a terrible 15 minutes finished with Gonzalez seizing on a terrible miscommunication for the hosts’ third. Romo left a bouncing ball for Perez, who was waiting for his goalkeeper, allowing the Salt Lake striker the freedom of the penalty area to control, set himself and slide a shot inside the far post. It was embarrassing, there was no other word for it.

On this occasion, our attacking prowess meant that we escaped from Utah with a point under our belts, but our calamitous defensive work meant double drills in training the following week - drills which made me and Jide unpopular men indeed. Still, the lessons needed to be learned, and my men would not want to switch off again knowing the intensity of the training we could unleash on them.

In the short-term, they were lessons that were taken on board, as our first Cascadia Cup clash of the season saw us welcome Vancouver to the Amazon Arena. A competition record 63,912 fans packed into our stadium to watch their all-conquering heroes, and they were rewarded not only with a clean sheet - something the defence was congratulated on pointedly after the game - but with three goals of the highest quality.

First, Christian Bustos got his first for the club with a curling effort from the edge of the area after Cho’s free-kick clattered off the wall to his feet. Then, right on the hour mark, our Korean international produced a fine first-time finish to turn Lawton’s cross beyond the goalkeeper on the volley, and finally Shannon joined his team-mate on three goals in four games with a towering header at the back post which left the scrambling stopper with no chance. This time, three goals were more than enough.

We saw out March, and with it the opening month of the season, with a return visit to LA and a drab goalless draw notable only for Cho’s last-minute free-kick smashing off the crossbar, and a trip to Portland which saw former Sounder Marco Bridges do nothing to endear himself to his new side, gifting Cho possession for him to open the scoring early on, and then conceding the injury-time set-piece which substitute Cacau drove home to make it 2-0. As April arrived, we had four wins and two draws from our six outings, with the only goals conceded being the three in our horror-show at Real Salt Lake, and our points tally placing us atop the Western Conference at an early stage. So far, so good

[EvilDave]

 

“Thanks you for coming Owain, and sorry we had to cancel last month - I hope you understand.”

Adrian Haneuer opened what would have been our pre-season meeting had a Nordstrom family emergency not intervened, but the quietest member of my employing committee assured everyone that everything was all well in his household, and that we were OK to proceed.

“I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but it goes without saying that we’re very happy and very grateful for the success you’ve broke to our club, Owain. To win the double last season was not expected, and a joy to be part of.

“You’ve started this year very well - I’ve heard the players learned their lesson after the Salt Lake game - and we wanted to assure you that we aren’t expecting you to win everything again this time round.

“That said, we do have the biggest wage budget in the country, and we do expect to see a return on that. We’re aware that play-offs are unpredictable, but we’d expect to see us in contention for the Supporters’ Shield at the end of the season. Does that seem reasonable?”

It was a big step up from vague hopes of the play-offs, but I couldn’t argue. Anything less would be a step backwards.

“It does Adrian, yes - and I believe we’re capable of it with the squad I have. I know it’s some way off, but what are you expecting from the Champions League campaign?”

“A good questions, and to be honest we’re unsure as a lot depends on the group. As a guideline, we’d be looking for you to reach the knockout rounds, and we’ll go from there.

“Paul, do you have anything to add?”

“Yes, thank you Adrian. Owain, you and Clint have brought a lot of money into the club over the winter, do you intend to spend any of it?”

“I’d say at the moment that’s unlikely Paul, and if we did it would not be a significant amount. I’d very happy with our free signings, our squad is already one capable of competing at the top of the league, and I feel we’ve done well in the drafts. Clint and I are agreed that, unless someone special becomes available, we’re finished for the season at this stage.”

“Thank you. Erik?”

Nordstrom simply shook his head.

“Well Owain,” said Adrian as he took control once more, “unless you have any questions, that’s all from us.”

“There is something, actually, if you don’t mind?”

“Go ahead.”

“Regarding Clint - so far he seems very good at his job, very easy to work with, and obviously he scores well with the fans. It’s just unusual to have such a high-profile figure in the front office, and…”

“Owain, I suspected you’d have concerns. Let me assure you, there are no plans to replace you with Clint Dempsey. He is a highly motivated individual, and I know for a fact he is working through his coaching badges as well as carrying out his duties. However, we are very happy with our current manager, and unless that changes then there is no question of installing Clint in your place. Of course, you’ll know if ever we’re unhappy.”

“Thank you Adrian - I don’t want to seem suspicious, but you have to agree it is unusual.”

“It is, and I understand your concerns. I hope we’ve been able to relieve them?”

“Yes, thank you."

[EvilDave]

 

With board’s expectations increasing and my Sounders off to a good start on the field, we had to keep it going. Following my Asian success with Adelaide, I had half an eye on the Champions League - meaning I needed my best players fit and healthy for an assault on several fronts - but we could not afford to let the bread and butter of MLS slip away. If we were overhauled by our rivals, I could well be out of a job.

April 2nd was the date of our next encounter, and another Cascadia Cup game, this time at home to the Whitecaps. During my time in Seattle we have played out one or two goal-filled games with our rivals from across the border, and with a packed Amazon Arena waiting expectantly, we needed to keep our flying start on track.

Vancouver kicked off in a 5-3-2 formation, perhaps more concerned with keeping us out than troubling the scorers themselves, but whatever their defensive shape they could do nothing about the opening goal. We had been playing a mere eight minutes when Homero Cano let fly from 25 yards, and his rocket of a shot found the top corner of the net to put us in the ascendancy.

From that point we were comfortable, and even more so 10 minutes later when Cacau tapped home a rebound to double our advantage. The only black mark on the performance was a late injury to Matt Lawton which meant we finished with only 10 men, but even his absence did not stop us adding to our tally - first Cano doubled his tally with a cool finish before an ill-advised intervention from Fernando Martinez took the ball past his own goalkeeper to complete the 4-0 hammering.

Next up were Philadelphia and their ever-dangerous Union side. This time we did not have things all our own way, and a goal for each team within 30 seconds of each other - Oscar Trejo replying to Cano’s opener within the minute - sent us in level at the break and with neither team laying claim to superiority.

In the second half however, we struggled. Passes that would usually find their intended recipient drifted past, the midfield became something akin to trench warfare, and none of our attacking players could really get their foot on the ball. Santiago proved increasingly important between our posts, and 1-1 looked like the best we could hope for. We were wrong.

One long punt from the goalkeeper sailed over the heads of the entire Union team, their defenders caught ball-watching as Jon Shannon collected the clearance a full 10 yards behind the line. A man of his ability does not pass up opportunities like that, and he calmly put us 2-1 in front with just 15 minutes to play.

Of course, Philadelphia took just four minutes to reply, Trejo grabbing himself a brace, and we were forced to settle for the point we already had. It was disappointing, but in truth it was likely to be one of our more difficult trips of the domestic season. Clint Dempsey, travelling with the squad in order to do some close-quarters scouting and see if there were any deals to be struck with the Union front office, seemed to think we’d played well, and he should know.

[EvilDave]

 

Four days later, I was the toast of Seattle once again. The Timbers had been in town, our fiercest local rivals and one half of the most passionate derby in the United States. They were looking to throw a spanner in the Sounders machine, while we were looking to continue our local dominance over a club which was becoming accustomed to life in our shadow.

We came out on top, and in some style. After just 36 minutes Jon Shannon had a hat-trick, sealing his treble from the penalty spot with a cheeky chip down the middle. Then, just seconds before the half-time whistle, Cho took the roof off the Amazon with a sensational chip, making the goalkeeper look stupid from 20 yards and then soaking up the adulation from the fans.

The best was still to come, too. The second half was 20 minutes old when Cho saw a corner headed powerfully away by a visiting defender in a rare display of footballing competence from the Timbers. What he probably didn’t see was the subsequent shot, hit by a charging Adrian Romo from 25 yards, which was drilled hard and low and flew into the bottom corner before anyone could react. Two late consolations give the scoreline at least a modicum of respectability for our rivals, but we had absolutely crushed them and they knew it.

Although MLS remained lacking in coverage in the nation’s media - particularly in Seattle, where the Seahawks will always be top billing - the derby win generated a fair amount of positive attention. The title win had in many ways legitimised the Sounders as a club, and the fact that we were once again looking like one of the strongest sides in the US made us good material for the locals. The players knew it, and the buzz around the training ground was a good one.

Or perhaps it was an arrogant one. Four days after our demolition of Portland, we made the long trip south to Houston and picked up a 2-0 win over the Dynamo, two second-half goals earning us the three points. I returned home more than happy with the day’s work, but Rachel was a little concerned by my attitude.

“I watched the game tonight Owain, what did you think?”

“I thought it took a long time coming, but with the quality we’ve got we were always likely to get the job done. Thank you for watching darling, I really appreciate that.”

My peck on the cheek did not distract her from her point.

“I want to see you do well my love, of course I watched it. I just don’t think your team actually played that well.”

“You don’t?”

“Not really, no. I saw Houston have twice as many shots and more of the ball. I saw one goal on a ricochet and the second a late counter, but nothing that said ‘champions’ to me. It looked a bit complacent to be honest.”

“I don’t know about complacent - I mean, the guys were expecting to win, but I don’t think they put any less effort in.”

“Well, I’m no football manager but I’ve always found if you go in expecting to succeed, you find it a lot harder to dig deep. Did you think about changing the system at any point when it was still 0-0.”

“Not really, it’s only ever personnel these days.”

“Why?”

“Because... OK I see your point - just because something worked once doesn’t mean it always will. I’ll be careful darling.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

This time it was Rachel’s turn for the briefest of kisses. I couldn’t resist the last word, however - even if it was met with a sigh.

“I’m willing to change the plan if it doesn’t work. You’ve got to admit though, so far it’s been a pretty good plan."

[EvilDave]

 

The following week we didn’t need to change anything, as another round of criss-crossing the United States saw us pick up maximum points without having to break too much of a sweat. Columbus were swatted aside inside the opening 15 minutes thanks to quick goals from Valdez and Sibandze on the road, while a few days later the Red Bulls were sent back to New York with nothing, another goal from our Belgian international sealing a narrow but comfortable 1-0 win.

That meant May arrived with my Sounders flying high atop the Western Conference and looking good to meet the owners’ target for the campaign - although there was a still a very long way to go. Clint Dempsey was now firmly embedded as part of the staff - both on matchdays and in the club office - but had not once shown any indication of getting ideas above his station - and everything looked rosy.

So it continued with our opening game of the month, on our travels away to Sporting Kansas City. This time, with Rachel’s words of development racing through my mind, I made a subtle but significant tactical switch at the break with the score locked at 0-0. Whether my instructions to Cho made any real difference is not for me to say, but my substitutions 25 minutes from time certainly did.

On came Cano and Reus for the tiring legs of Valdez and Bustos, and just three minutes after their introduction my replacements combined to net the only goal of the game. The former Galaxy star did well to get the byline and, with the angle too tight to produce a shot, cut the ball back to the penalty spot for our German veteran to steer beyond the goalkeeper. It was all we needed, and we chalked up another hard-fought win.

Four days later, a calculated change of plan turned into sheer desperation in Toronto. Jon Shannon gave us the lead early in the second period after another goalless first half, only for Enrique Paredes to level for the hosts on the hour. Sibandze netted with almost his first touch after coming off the bench with 20 minutes to play, but again Paredes wasn’t far behind and levelled the scores going into the final quarter of an hour.

With the rain pouring down on BMO Field, all three substitutions used up and the home team pushing us back, I had to do something drastic. At a break in play I called over Ollie Cosgriff to pass out instructions, and even my trusty half-back was a little surprised at what he heard. We were going to fight fire with fire - pushing up the defensive line, swapping our defensive shield for a more orthodox midfield position, and sending Sibandze up alongside Shannon and Valdez as a front three with Cho lurking behind. With the full-backs also given instructions to bomb on, it was nothing short of gung-ho.

In hindsight a point in Toronto would not have been the worst result in the world, but in my mind we were the champions and so could not drop points - not if we were to win the Supporters’ Shield. As my changes took effect and the team re-aligned itself on the park, I’m sure there were one or two raised eyebrows on the TFC bench.

Whatever their reaction, we got the result. With four minutes remaining, Cho received the ball from Romo in a pocket of space ahead of the Canadian defence, turned and slid a slide-rule ball through for Valdez. He managed to get the wrong side of his man and, faced with the advancing goalkeeper, simply knocked a pass square for Sibandze to tap into the unguarded net from eight yard. Job done, match won, relief understandable.

Yet our deficiencies had been shown up - we were not perfect, far from it - and three days later visiting DC United proved it once again. This time there was a goal in the opening 45 minutes, Sean Parker turning home a corner kick inside the six-yard box, and it took another late attack to even salvage a point, the unfortunate Ty Bryant deflecting another corner past his own goalkeeper to earn us a share of the spoils.

All of a sudden, we were wobbling. I was not best pleased

[EvilDave]

 

I sat silently in the bowels of the Rio Tinto Stadium, the players waiting outside for their manager in the May drizzle. They knew I was upset - I had told them as much at the full-time whistle - but more galling even than their performance was the nagging sensation that I had been here before.

I had been in charge at Prestatyn when careless errors and complacency had allowed TNS and Neal Ardley to get the better of us in the title race. I had been on the wrong end of defeats in local derbies that mattered to no-one beyond the few hundred souls in crowds in Rhyl and Bangor, and they had hurt. I hated the feeling of losing control.

In Australia, I had watched as my team limped to defeat against Melbourne Victory, even taking a verbal warning from my crooked employer at the time. At the end of that same season, with everybody’s mind on the Champions League, I had been powerless to prevent Brisbane Roar taking both our league crown and play-off title. It had hurt badly.

Now, here the States, in charge of the reigning champions, with the biggest budget in the league and the finest all-round squad ever to grace MLS, I once again sat powerless after witnessing my team throw everything away, apparently with no real rhyme or reason to the abject nature of their display. I couldn’t see a way out, and it hurt.

One week ago, my lethal front four had fired off no fewer than 18 shots against San Jose - a respectable number and one indicative of our control of possession. In most encounters it would be enough to win comfortably, however on this particular occasion our collective shooting boots had gone missing. Not one of those 18 efforts found the target, nor even forced the Earthquakes’ goalkeeper to make a save, and of course as the game wore on it was inevitable that the visitors would net a winner. They did, and our unbeaten run came to an end.

On that occasion, I had just about been able to chalk it up to bad luck, and focus on the next game - this one, away at Real Salt Lake. This time, we would let fly with 27 efforts to our hosts’ nine, finding the target with a meagre six, and scoring with one - Homero Cano’s fine driven effort just after the hour.

However, Jake Downing alone hit the target with four of his side’s nine shots, and two of them - either side of Cano’s strike - found their way beyond Santiago and into the back of our net. Neither my tactical tinkering nor my substitutions did anything to alter the pattern of the game, and for the first time in a long while we suffered back-to-back defeats. For the first time since my inconsistent first season in Seattle, I felt completely out of control.

After allowing the players to stew for a while - not to mention battling my own thoughts - I emerged from the stadium and boarded the bus which would take us to the airport. I spoke not a word, Jide caught on and followed suit, and the journey passed by in stoney silence. The message I wished to convey to my players was a simple one - improve, or else.

[EvilDave]

 

The fixture list was kind, throwing us the best possible match with which to bounce back. We would begin our US Open Cup defence at home against the lowly Western Mass Pioneers, an amateur outfit plying their trade in the USL Premier Development League - a division which boasted absolutely nothing of MLS quality.

And yet, and I sat on the bench watching my heavily-rotated side cruise to a 3-0 win - the highlight being an early goal for promising defensive talent Hunter Wright - I couldn’t help but wonder how much control I was actually exerting on the team. In theory I could have selected any combination of players, within reason, and expected to beat the Pioneers comfortably. My own role on the touchline was, to my mind at least, in question.

And yet just a couple of days later, after chatting things through with Clint Dempsey, I authorised the sale of a player which in many ways reassured me of my impact on the Sounders franchise. It was not a sale I was particularly keen to go ahead with at first, but after taking off my rose-tinted glasses, I was able to see the sense in the move.

Cacau was nothing short of revelatory in my first season in Seattle, and indeed his set-pieces alone probably prevented us becoming an embarrassing footnote in a poor season for the club. The Brazilian was a mercurial talent in the attacking midfield role, popping up with goals and assists in good numbers, and providing the firepower that we so desperately needed.

Yet even in the title-winning year, the arrival of first Marco Reus and then Bheka Sibandze meant his contribution was less important, the goals and assisted shared more widely throughout the team and less focused on my first marquee signing. He still chipped in with the odd moment of magic, but we were no longer built around the Brazilian.

Now, with the arrival of Cho and Bustos in the same position, even with Reus’ legs beginning to fail him, Cacau was not even guaranteed a place on the bench, let alone in the starting line-up. He was, to use an awful word to describe another human being, dispensable.

And so, when his agent demanded that we grant him Designated Player status in order to renew his expiring contract, Dempsey knew that the writing was on the wall. I needed more convincing, but the truth was soon obvious - Cacau was not good enough to warrant such a deal, and if we weren’t to lose him for nothing, we needed to sell him.

As such, when Red Bull Salzburg, the kings of Austria and regular participants in the UEFA Champions League group stages, came calling with a $4m bid, we couldn’t find a reason to turn it down. Within 24 hours, Cacau had said his goodbyes, cleared out his locker, and moved on - no hard feelings, no tears, just a sense of gratitude for his opportunity and a closed door. Cacau was Sounders past, and we were far more concerned about both the present and future.

In the week that followed the departure of my first talisman, it was business as usual for the current crop of players. First of all we put our recent bad form behind us to net twice early on against FC Dallas - a 25-yard rocket from Ollie Cosgriff the highlight - before shutting up shop after a late consolation from the visitors. Four days later, back on duty in the Open Cup, we repeated the trick - score early, concede late - to see off Chivas USA and book a quarter-final tie against the Carolina Railhawks. We were back in business, and I was back in control.

[EvilDave]

 

“Do you not just think it’d be a bit of a waste of time darling?”

It was a big question, but it was retrospective and even if Rachel was right, there was nothing she could do about it now. The fortunate thing about it was that she was far from right.

“Darling, why did you want to do that MBA in the first place?”

There was a pause. That was good.

“Well, I wanted to get the qualifications to go with my experience I guess.”

“No, why did you want to do the MBA at the time? Not now.”

There was another pause before the reply.

“I think I was lonely, I wanted to meet people on a more regular basis, I wanted to test myself. I wanted to see if I could do it.”

Rachel, several months on from completing her studies and without work, was beginnning to question whether or not she had wasted her time - something she was not short of with the girls at school - and our money - again, something we were not lacking - on a qualification she was never going to use.

“What I’m trying to show you darling, is that the MBA was never about whether or not you work again or not. It was about you stretching yourself, proving to yourself you could do it. Part of it was even about getting out the house, wasn’t it?”

“I guess so…”

“So which part of it exactly has been a waste of time?”

Silence.

“Darling, there’s no shame in deciding you don’t want to put yourself in a high-pressure position and never see the girls again. There’s no shame in settling for something run-of-the-mill if that’s what you want to do, or staying at home if you’d rather. You don’t owe it to anyone, do you?”

“No, no I don’t.”

“And just because you’ve changed your mind - or think you might have - doesn’t make anything wrong. Now come here and give me a hug.”

Rachel did as she was told.

“You know what Owain, you might just be right. Bethan is growing up far too fast, Rebecca isn’t far behind her, and we’re still young. I think I might just take my time making my mind up.”

She reached up to kiss me.

“You know Owain, I do like it when you get all self-righteous."

[EvilDave]

 

While I found it pretty easy to get my head around Rachel’s future - effectively that she should do whatever she wanted without needing to justify it to anybody else - trying to fathom my own team’s performances was a little more difficult.

On the one hand, we would put in displays like that against the Rapids over in Colorado. At the time they were our closest challengers in the conference, and despite falling behind to an early goal from Junior Marquez we blew them away in a superb half hour either side of half time.

First it was Shannon to the rescue, drawing us level with a bullet of a header from a full 15 yards out, and then it was over to Christian Bustos to take control of the game and swing it completely in our favour. His first goal was classic play from an attack-minded midfielder, timing a late run perfectly to sweep home a ball from the edge of the area. His second was simply sublime, a right-footed spiralling effort that brushed the inside of the far post before nestling in the back of the net. At 3-1, the Rapids had no way back, and our Argentine genius showed us why letting Cacau go was no big deal.

 

But just a week later, back in Open Cup action away at the Railhawks, even another exemplary showing from our young playmaker couldn’t hide our obvious flaws. As cup holders and outright favourites for the tie, we were left with red faces as Nathan Barlow beat young Hunter Wright with a shimmy and then Brent Sassano with a shot before any of my rotated Sounders had even touched the ball. The home fans loved it of course, but I was not amused.

That man Bustos made it three goals in two goals with a cool finish before the clock ticked into double figures, and from that point we looked to be in control. Homero Cano, getting  what was becoming an increasingly rare start for the former Golden Boot winner, took advantage of his opportunity and our pressure with the go-ahead goal on the half hour mark, and at half-time we looked relatively comfortable.

But again we lost sight of that man Barlow within minutes of the restart, allowing the Carolina club to tie the game at 2-2. Our defence, and indeed entire side was heavily rotated, but even so there was something about the way we simply watched him glide into the penalty area without even a hint of a challenge that made me increasingly worried for the remainder of our campaign.

Where I needn’t have worried was up front, where our superior firepower eventually pulled us through. A second from Bustos just after the hour, followed three minutes later by a goal for Jon Shannon with his first touch of the ball, all but sealed the deal for us, and when fellow replacement Cho bent in a free-kick for our third goal in just 10 minutes, our earlier frailty had been banished.

And yet there was still time for an unlucky name to crop up on the scoresheet for the Railhawks, once again showing our defensive issues to the watching world. Once a fully-fledged international and mainstay of midfield for both Schalke and Tottenham, at the age of 34 none other than Lewis Holtby found himself in semi-retirement in Carolina. Brought on as a half-time substitute, with 10 minutes to play our defence simply backed off and backed off, allowing the German the space to hit a 25-yard drive that proved exactly how good he had once been. Sassano stood no chance, the home fans celebrated the goal of the game, and the 5-3 scoreline flattered us, settled only by a 10-minute blitz. We still had work to do.

So of course our next match, three days later at Chivas USA, saw us slow, sluggish, out of sorts and all over the place. A toe-poked Wes Parsons goal earned the hosts the win in a match which saw us receive just 36 per cent of possession and muster a pitiful six shots on goal. Having been rested for the Railhawks tie, tiredness could be no excuse for my lethargic stars, and they had the riot act read to them on the long journey home. We were well-placed for the rest of the season, but you would not guess so from our performance.

[EvilDave]

 

If truth be told, we were very well placed. Even with our defeat to Chivas - our 20th game of the regular season - we were still comfortably top of the Western Conference. We sat pretty with 43 points from our 20 matches, ahead of Colorado with 33 from 17 and Chivas with 31 from 18. In terms of play-off qualification, we were all but certain to make it - lying in the fourth and fifth spots were Portland and Salt Lake respectively, yet to break the 30-point barrier.

This season, however, I was aiming for the Supporters’ Shield, having been pipped at the post by Chicago last time round. In the pseudo-socialist world of American sports it can be unusual to see the same two teams at the top each season, but that is exactly what was taking place - over in the East, New England topped the standings with 35 points and 20 matches to their name, but just four points behind and with a full four games in hand were the Fire, knowing that four wins from four would see them pull level with us on 43 points. Once again, things were going to go down to the wire.

Another factor that we would need to consider this season was the Champions League, with the group stage draw of the CONCACAF competition being made the day before our first game of June away in Vancouver. The format seems strange to those of European origin, with sides placed in groups of just three clubs and the winners progressing to the quarter-finals, but it meant that if we avoided the Mexican heavyweights we would be comfortable favourites. In the end our title rivals were not so lucky, landing themselves with Santos Laguna, while we escaped with two Central American sides with no history of success in the competition. Neither Costa Rica nor El Salvador would be comfortable places to go, but against CS Cartagines and Isidro Metapan, we would be red-hot favourites to collect maximum points.

Similarly, we were favourites for our visit to the Whitecaps despite our poor performance against Chivas, with the bookmakers assuming it to be nothing but a blip. Instead of a routine win, what followed was a topsy-turvy encounter which proved a great advert for MLS, if not for common-sense defending.

So bad were our respective back lines that the first 30 minutes saw no fewer than five goal shared out between us. After a quarter of an hour it looked for all the world as if we were simply going to blow the Whitecaps away with our attacking play, textbook through-balls from Cosgriff and Cho allowing first Shannon and then Valdez in behind for regulation finishes.

However, no sooner had we restarted than Vancouver had one back, Jesus Venegas doing very well to get across Andrew Perez at the near post and steer a low cross into the bottom corner. Six minutes later it was 2-2, a moment of madness from Santiago seeing him palm a routine cross straight into the path of an onrushing Whitecap, and out of nowhere we were level once more.

There was still time in that opening half-hour for another goal, and the pendulum swung back in our favour as a corner from the right was only partially cleared, and Christian Bustos continued his fine goalscoring form with a thunderous half-volley from the edge of the area. Still, the first half had plenty of life remaining, and with the referee in the process of raising his whistle to his lips, Nebojsa Kljajic netted with a carbon copy of Bustos’ strike at the other end to leave the crowd needing a breather and the scores locked at 3-3.

By this point I had lost count of the number of times in recent weeks I had told my defence to buck their ideas up, and yet thankfully this time they were on the same page. Led by captain Perez, collectively they were a different animal in the second period, not allowing our Canadian hosts a sniff of goal. Instead, they became the first line of attack, playing out from the back with confidence and feeding our more creative talent.

It was one such player who settled the game, and was subsequently cruelly denied a hat-trick by the errant flag of a linesman. Cho sent us back in front for the third time with a delicate dinked finish over the onrushing goalkeeper in the 52nd minute, and 20 minutes later stepped up to fire an unstoppable free-kick beyond the wall and into the far corner of the net. It was another fine performance from the Korean, another 5-3 victory for my Sounders, and another set of mixed emotions at the full-time whistle.

[dichthuat]

this is a very touching story

Cong ty dich thuat MIDTrans I was in tears when I heard the end of it

[EvilDave]

 

If our trip across the border had been manic and unpredictable, our next game - on home soil against FC Dallas was far more routine. A goal in just 23 seconds from Pedro Valdez was added to on the half-hour by a thumping Perez header from a dead ball, and only an injury-time intervention from Chad Crowe denied us a long-awaited clean sheet.

Even then, the three points were taken off our minds by an announcement which, whilst not unexpected, was still somewhat saddening. The day after watching our win from the bench, Marco Reus declaring to the sporting world that, whilst he would love to continue life as a Sounder, he knew he was no longer first choice and knew that his body was no longer capable of playing at that level. As such, he would retire from the game at the end of the season.

For a World Cup, Champions League, Premier League and now MLS champion to bow out in such a low-key fashion - his former clubs honouring him with merely a mention on social media - was a little disappointing, but Marco’s decision was a reminder that time marches on irrespective of our achievements and former glory. He had been a key member of the Sounders squad last season, was an important but bit-part player in this one, and in all likelihood would barely have featured the following season. It was a hard decision, but the right one.

A much simpler decision came in tandem with Clint Dempsey the following day, when a call from Columbus saw us part with one-time draftee Jon Ayres. The forward still showed some potential, of that there was no doubt, but he was no longer the striker with limitless ability some had once viewed him as. If he continued in his current vein, he would become a decent enough MLS winger - a position my Sounders do not utilise - and for first-round draft picks in successive years, he was welcome to join the Crew.

Ayres’ departure had little to no impact on our next fixture, as only a spate of injuries would have seen him into the matchday squad to take on the Galaxy. Our traditional opening day opponents were enduring a fairly mediocre season given their spending power, and were in danger of missing the play-offs altogether.

If their performance against us was anything to go by, the post-season would have been the last thing on their mind. Los Angeles were a sorry excuse of a team, cut apart time and time again by our incisive forward play and only able to score when a defensive error presented Andre Ducos with a chance he simply could not miss. We missed out on a clean sheet, but everything else about our display was simply perfect.

Shannon got the ball rolling after just six minutes with a low drive across the goalkeeper, and the same man made it 2-0 just after the half hour, rising highest to meet Nathan Rodriguez’ cross from the left wing. Just three minutes into the second half he claimed the match ball with another headed goal, but not before Bustos added his name to the scoresheet with a composed finish from the penalty spot. Ducos then ensured the Galaxy took home at least something for their paltry efforts with his consolation, but we were still not finished, and Homero Cano, on as a substitute against his former club, celebrated the romp with a classic breakaway goal, latching on to a raking pass from Salcedo and firing into the bottom corner in some style.

Of course, having crushed one opponent 5-1, we would then go and undo that hard work with yet more defensive calamity. San Jose were the beneficiaries once more, completing a Heritage Cup double over us a 4-2 win, and we have to come to terms with the fact that it could have been so much worse - only late goals from Valdez and Cho denying the Earthquakes a more emphatic scoreline. It was a terrible way to end the month, and left us with plenty of thinking to do as we reached the business end of the season.

[EvilDave]

 

“Good morning Owain, and thank you for meeting me at such short notice. You’ve nothing to worry about, I assure you.”

“It’s not problem Adrian, not at all. How can I help you?”

“First of all, we wanted to congratulate you on reaching another Open Cup final. This club has a proud history in that competition, we know how much it means to the fans to be doing so well, and you’ve been the architect of another great run. So thank you.”

The head of the club had asked to meet me the day after a tense, nervous penalty shoot-out win over Philadelphia Union in the semi-final. Four days after a comfortable 2-0 win over FC Dallas in the league, we had edged a topsy-turvy game but were unable to win in regulation time, the game ending 2-2 after 120 minutes. The shoot-out went to sudden death, with cup keeper Brent Sassano the hero after saving their sixth spot-kick. With Minnesota United crushing Salt Lake in the other semi, we had a winnable final to boot.

“No need to thank me Adrian, the fans do their part and the players do theirs - I just set them free.”

“Be that as it may, I know there’s more to it than that and we’re lucky to have you. What I wanted to talk to you about, in all honesty, is the Champions League. You see the players every day, you know their strengths, their weakness, how they match up - what can we do this year?”

We still had two MLS matches before our continental campaign got underway, but the buzz around the club was huge. It had been several years since the Sounders were even close to the Champions League, and there was a real sense that, with the squad we had assembled, we could give it a good run.

“It’s hard to say Adrian, it really is. We’ve avoided the Mexicans in the group, so we should get through no problem - we can’t underestimate the other two, but I’ll be disappointing if we don’t get maximum points. Then it really is all down to the draw.”

“Is there anybody we can’t beat?”

It was a loaded question, a difficult one, but one borne out of genuine excitement and belief rather than a hard-nosed business sense. My boss was not wishing to pile on the pressure, just gauge expectations.

“In a one-off match, no - and I’d say that about the Europeans as well. Over two legs, you look at America and the players they’ve got, their record in the competition, and it’s a tough one. Chivas, Monterrey, Leon - we’d be underdogs, but we could give them a good go.”

“I guess what I’m asking Owain, and please don’t take this as me heaping it on you, is this - is there a chance we can win the thing?”

There was absolutely no way I could tell my boss that we were entering a competition with no hope of winning it - even something as big as the Champions League. So, taking the only option I had, I looked him square in the eyes.

“Adrian, I don’t know if we can win the Champions League. It’s the biggest competition I’ve ever taken part in, and to win it will be even more difficult than the Asian equivalent with Adelaide. On paper we’re fifth or sixth favourites at best, the Mexican teams don’t have to worry about salary caps or draft allocations, and no American team has ever won it before.

“But what I can promise you is that I will give my utmost to change that statistic. If we fall in the group stage, it won’t be for lack of trying. If we get knocked out in the semi-finals, it will not be because we rolled over and gave up. Diego Simeone himself couldn’t guarantee success, but what I can guarantee is that you will get no less than complete and total effort from me and my players.”

There was a moment of silence before Haneuer broke the ice.

“Owain, there’s no need to go all Hollywood on me. ‘I don’t know’ would have been fine. Win the Champions League and you go down as a legend of this football club. I can’t expect that or ask for it, but I know you’ll try your damnedest. That’s enough for me."

[EvilDave]

 

By the time our Champions League campaign did get underway - two weeks later away at Cartagines, plenty had changed. Bethan and Rebecca had just finished school for the summer, we had suffered another defeat in MLS, this time an unfortunate 2-1 reverse in Colorado, and then booked our place in the post-season, a 1-0 Cascadia Cup win over Portland at home guaranteeing us a spot in the play-offs with a full seven games to spare.

And so, in the sticky summer heat of Cartago, there was an positive vibe throughout the side as we kicked off against our Costa Rican hosts. From the outset, we began to zip the ball around on the turf, letting the ball do the work in possession and chasing down the Cartagines players in packs, not allowing them a single second on the ball. It was highly promising.

And then the hosts scored. Perhaps our midfield was pressing too high, perhaps it was just unfortunate - whatever the cause, Hunter Robertson slipped when turning to chase a ball behind him, and in a flash Kenneth Meneses was onto it. Santiago couldn’t react quickly enough to the early shot, and after 14 minutes we found ourselves on the wrong end of a shock scoreline.

It was the kick up the backside that we needed. Three minutes later, Cho flicked home a near-post cross from the right, and 10 minutes after that we were ahead. Marco Reus had been given his first start of the season - I felt it only fair to add an NACL appearance to his illustrious career - and he pounced on a rebound to make it 2-1 25 minutes in. Three minutes before the break, with Cartagines reeling, Homero Cano added a third to put things beyond doubt.

We weren’t done yet though, and in the second half simply ground our hosts into the ground. Shannon took all of three minutes of the second period to add his name to the scoresheet, and moments later set up Reus for his brace. At 5-1 we could have been forgiven for taking our foot off the pedal, but Cano remained hungry for goals and grabbed his second with 12 minutes still to play, and the first Sounders game on the continent for many a year ended in a thumping 6-1 victory.

Four days later, three of the same men - Reus dropping to the bench - found the net as we battled to a 3-2 win over New England back at the Amazon, and all was well in Seattle. Three more days passed and all of a sudden - and quite bizarrely, given that there would then be a month before our third match of the group stage - we had another Champions League clash on our hands as we hosted Isidro Metapan of El Salvador.

Just as we were in Costa Rica, we were absolutely dominant. Unlike in that first game, we were able to keep a clean sheet against inferior opposition. And much like our opening tie, we chalked up a comfortable victory. Pedro Valdez took us in ahead at the break with a sharply-taken opening goal, and just two minutes after the interval strike partner Shannon made it 2-0. To ice the cake, holding man Adrian Romo arrowed home a bouncing ball from the edge of the area after a free-kick was barely cleared, and we had six points from six. One more win, and we would surely qualify for the knockout stages. Then, things would get serious.

[EvilDave]

OK, so a little laptop-induced hiatus is over and we're back in business - apologies to any and all readers for the unexpected delay in updates, and I've no idea why the font has changed. Any suggestions?
--

“Can you believe it Owain, she’s 10 years old. Where have the years gone?”

Rachel was in the middle of a moment of reflection, brought about by Bethan’s 10th birthday party - which had taken place weeks before. The two of us sat, family photo album on our laps, flicking through countless memories generated since that moment our lives had changed back in 2015.

Geographically, I could answer my wife pretty easily, and indeed fairly impressively. The years had gone to Prestatyn, Adelaide and now Seattle, with countless days and weeks spent crisscrossing the three respective countries.

But from a family perspective, it was much harder. Bethan was, from my own heavily biased viewpoint, growing up to be a beautiful, intelligent and loving young woman. At school, she had pushed her way towards the top of her class, she had never struggled for friends despite our regular moving around, and she had never been a problem at home. She was by no means perfect, but as a doting father, I could not imagine a daughter I would rather have.

“I don’t know darling,” was the only realistic answer I could muster, but both of fought back the tears as we continued to flick through the photographs. There were family holidays, birthday parties, Christmases aplenty, but among the highlights were a record of day-to-day family life - the moments that nobody writes home about, but which as a parent you can’t help but treasure.  

“You know,” I continued, “I can’t help but wish I’d been here for more of this.”

Rachel took my hand in hers, perhaps sensing the tinge of regret in my voice.

“Owain, your job is not something that anybody can do, and you’ve been the best dad our girls could have wanted. Yes, you spend a lot of time travelling to away games - but how many other managers take their families when they can? How many others have taken time out for their families? How many make sure they’re back home at a reasonable time in the evening to see them before bed?”

“I don’t know to be honest, it’s not something we really talk about.”

“Well I’d guess it’s not too many. You’re a special man Owain Williams, I’m lucky to have you and so are Bethan and Becca.”

“Is there anything else I could be doing?”

“Unless there’s a football league based in one city with no away games, then no. Just make sure you keep bringing them onto the pitch for trophy presentations, they love that.”

If that was all I needed to do, I suppose I could stop worrying.

[EvilDave]

Just a quick note to say a big thank you to all of you who have contributed to the 5,000 views this story now has. It's a little ridiculous, but thanks for sticking with me and reading my work - without your interest and comments this would just be me writing in an echo chamber, so thanks!
--

What was still very much on my mind, however, was the conclusion of the regular MLS season and, more specifically, the race for the Supporters’ Shield crown. In our final game of the month we travelled to San Jose and emerged with a point after a turgid goalless draw - our first in what seemed like a long time - leaving ourselves in a strong position at the top of the standings with just five games to play. We sat eight points clear of Colorado in the West - although the Rapids had two games in hand - while in the East, Chicago were six points behind us with three matches more to play. If they won out, they would take the advantage, but at this stage congestion would no doubt come into play.

By the time our next matchday was complete, things were a little clearer. Our 2-2 draw against Chivas USA - a desperately disappointing result given that Lin Montalvan scrambled a 92nd minute equaliser for the visitors - saw two points ceded to Chicago who won one of their games in hand in Montreal, and then three days later did the same in Salt Lake City. Their second game in the bag came at home to Houston, and the Dynamo did us a huge favour by netting a late equaliser of their own, meaning that we were now locked together at the top of the table - Chicago holding the advantage having played one game fewer.

It meant that our game against Colorado was not only an opportunity to end the Rapids’ slim hopes of winning the title, but also a crucial match in terms of keeping us with the Fire, who travelled to Vancouver the following day. Going first meant an opportunity to keep the pressure on the chasing pack, and we knew we had to deliver on our end of the bargain if we were to keep up the fight.

What I got from my players was a fine demonstration of the form that had taken us to the top of the table in the first place, rather than the occasional blips that had me, Jide and Clint tearing our hair out. From the word go we we were able to dictate the tempo of the game, dominating possession and keeping the Rapids at a comfortable distance. Our forays forwards were incisive and calculated, and midway through the first half one such attack saw Cano brought down 25 yards from goal. Up stepped Cho, and our Korean genius curled us into the lead with a fine strike.

His creative partner Bustos added a second for us after the break, and our impressive victory heaped the pressure on Chicago once more. The following day, we got our reward for the second time - the Fire travelled to Vancouver, the side sitting rock bottom of the entire MLS table, and somehow contrived to lose 3-2 in a see-saw game that upset the odds. We had the most important stretch of our entire season coming up, but we now had a three-point lead over our rivals at the top of the Shield standings, and a goal difference advantage that negated their game in hand.

And, almost as if the organisers had designed it themselves, our next league fixture - our 32nd of 34 - would be at home to none other than the Chicago Fire themselves.

[EvilDave]

Before then, however, duty took up to El Salvador for a second Champions League meeting with Isidro Metapan. We knew that a win here would all but guarantee us a place in the quarter-finals - barring a catastrophic defeat in our final game - and that was something that was hammered home to the players before kick-off. Unfortunately for us, our opponents were keen to do some hammering of their own - forcing Cho off the field with fractured ribs inside five minutes, ruling our playmaker and inspiration out for five weeks at the most crucial time of the year.

Luckily our star player’s injury did nothing to reduce the obvious gulf in class between the two sides, and it did not take us long to make it show on the scoreboard. Cano got the ball rolling after 20 minutes, substitute Reus doubled the advantage shortly after the break, and in the dying moments Cano made it a brace from the penalty spot after being hauled down when trying to reach a cross. Job done, and time to focus on domestic matters.

Last season we had travelled to Chicago close to the end of the MLS season, but this time we were the side with home advantage. Like us, the Fire had also been in Champions League action - earning a hard-fought draw against Mexican side Santos Laguna that left them unlikely to make further progress - and so it was two tired sides that lined up in front of a packed Amazon Arena. Even with both sets of players flagging however, there was no chance of any quarter being given or taken.

The tiredness did show though, and the opening moments passed by almost at walking pace until Romo stung the palms of Fabian Giefer with a long-range sighter. By the time things picked up were already homing in on the half hour mark, and the fans who had paid good money to watch their team were being treated to a cagey tactical battle rather than the harum scarum football we had sometimes played. Sadly for them, this one was simply too important to lose.

With victory would have come the chance to all but seal the title, knocking Chicago back to six points adrift with just three games to play. Defeat was unthinkable, as it would surrender our advantage, bringing our rivals level on points with a game in hand. It was a fine line indeed that we needed to walk.

In the end, it was perhaps unsurprising that we settled for a point, and a point which suited ourselves far more than our visitors. Chicago now needed to make sure they dropped no further points if they were to retain the Supporters’ Shield, and attempt to overhaul our goal difference advantage of 11. In short, they were relying on us dropping points - a position I was very happy with.

But before we could settle the destination of the league title, we had the small matter of the Open Cup to deal with. Frustratingly, Minnesota United had rejected the USSF’s proposal to switch the final to the Amazon Arena, meaning the showpiece final would be held at the 10,000-seater National Sports Centre in Blaine - not exactly a venue suited to the occasion, and one which delivered another blow to the reputation of the trophy.

Nevertheless, we had a job to do, and it proved no easy task against a Minnesota side in the game of the lives. Every time we got the ball we were hustled and harried, our hosts determined not to give us even half a second to settle, and it took every inch of our professional discipline not to lash out and risk losing a man.

At the half-time whistle the score remained goalless, with the home fans in fine voice and Jon Shannon enduring a miserable first half almost devoid of service up front. The longer the scores stayed level the more our hosts grew in confidence, and the more likely it looked that we would find ourselves on the end of the one of the biggest recent shocks in US football history.

It was not to be. With fewer than 20 minutes remaining, a simple ball over the time finally caught the Minnesota defenders napping, and in an instant Shannon was away, controlling a bouncing ball on his instep, racing ahead and slotting calmly into the corner before wheeling away in sheer jubilation. The goal meant the hosts had to come at us, and their exertions in the game so far began to take their toll. In injury time, Shannon again got in behind, had his legs chopped from under him, and Christian Bustos converted the penalty to seal our second successive US Open Cup - the fifth in the club’s history - and put us within touching distance of an historic double double.

This time, the celebrations were every bit as passionate as last year, but shorter and more focused. The fire in the players’ eyes as we - accompanied on the pitch by Bethan and Rebecca - paraded the cup around the ground sent a message that could not be misinterpreted. This year, we had other business to attend to.

[EvilDave]

Our last two games of the season were at home, handing us another slight advantage in our ongoing battle with Chicago - or at least it would have been, were it not for the fact that the Fire wrapped up the campaign with three home games of their own. We began our final stretch by hosting Chivas USA, who had robbed us of two points in our last meeting with an injury time equaliser, and we were determined not to fall foul of them once again.

However, that man Lin Montalvan was on the teamsheet again for the visitors, and once more he managed to find a way past Santiago and earn a side an equaliser. The difference this time was there were still 70 minutes of the 90 to play, and until that point we were very much in the ascendancy, Sibandze’s early opener setting the tone.

We stayed at 1-1 for the remainder of the first half, and there would be just a single goal in the second - and a crucial one at that. Christian Bustos was the man to inch us ever closer to the Supporters’ Shield and overall league glory, supplying Shannon with the pass and then reacting quickest when the goalkeeper could only parry our striker’s effort into a busy penalty area. Three days later, we gathered as a squad to watch Chicago creep past Colorado 1-0, and the status quo remained - we were closing in.

“Now then lads, it’s been a long season - and it isn’t over yet - and you’ve been brilliant. We’re top of the table for a reason, we earned our play-off spot months ago, and unless we get this wrong we win that trophy today.

“There are 60,000 people out there who want to see you win it. Tomorrow, Chicago will be going all-out for a miracle to try and turn it round if we win here, and they won’t get it. We’ve got the advantage on points, we match them for wins, our goal difference is streaks ahead. All we need to do is win here tonight, and we will be champions.

“I know you know what needs doing, but I’m going to say it anyway. Gentlemen, friends, fellow Sounders - get out there, and win this game.”

For 27 minutes, Real Salt Lake spoiled the party. They showed no intention of getting forward themselves, but seemed intent on breaking up our attacks and dropping deeper and deeper towards their own goal. To my side’s credit, they continued their patient, disciplined approach, and finally it paid off.

Fittingly, it was Jon Shannon who put us ahead and on course for the Shield title. Finding himself unable to find any space inside the area, he instead checked his run, took a pass from Sibandze with his back to goal, turned and smashed a shot beyond the static goalkeeper and into the back of the net. The Amazon erupted, my fist flew skywards, and we had 70 minutes left before being officially crowned champions.

Now needing a goal, Real tried to shift gears and come at us. But they simply couldn’t, so far into their stride were my men. At the break I said very little, leaving the rallying cry to captain Perez, and within 10 minutes of the restart we had our reward, Bheka Sibandze driving into the area and firing a left-foot shot beneath the goalkeeper’s dive to double our advantage.

Fifteen minutes later, it was all over. First Shannon grabbed his brace, heading in Matt Lawton’s cross from deep over on the right. Then, just four minutes later, Sibandze matched him, shrugging off a challenge on the edge of the area and then powering home before the keeper could react. After 20 minutes of normal time and two added minutes, the final whistle blew and, barring a double-digit swing for Chicago in their final two games, the trophy was ours.

In fairness to the Fire, they went for it. In fact, they went for it hard at home to Chivas USA. Unfortunately for them, attempting to overturn a goal difference deficit of 14 in two matches necessitated nothing less than reckless, gung-ho attacking, and against one of the better sides in the Western Conference, that was never going to pay off. Chivas hit them for four, Chicago failed to find the net even once, and without stepping foot on a pitch, we were Supporters’ Shield champions. Two down, two to go.

[EvilDave]

“Owain darling, can I ask you something that you might not like?”

“Go ahead.”

“If you don’t win everything this year, are you going to be OK?”

It was a good question from Rachel, especially since in our first match since picking up the Supporters’ Shield we had laboured, albeit with a heavily rotated squad, to a 0-0 draw in our final match of the Champions League group against Cartagines. We would pick up our campaign in February against the Mexican giants of Monterrey, and we would have to be a lot better if we were even to threaten our opponents.

“You know what, I think so. I’ll be very disappointed if we don’t win the MLS Cup, but it’s knockout football and anything can happen. For the Champions League, we’re underdogs from here on in, so that’s fine.”

“I understand that darling, but will you be OK? I know the pressure you put yourself under and this season has been brilliant so far, I don’t want you to think you’ve failed if something goes wrong.”

My wife was, as ever, remarkably on the money. At Prestatyn I’d heaped the pressure on myself in our battles with TNS - who, disappointingly had regained superiority back in Wales - and was prone to putting myself through torture under the weight of my own expectations. I hadn’t yet had opportunity to process what would happen if we didn’t add the MLS Cup to our double for the year - and to be honest, I didn’t particularly want to.

“I can’t promise anything, I really can’t. It’s been a good couple of years here, I couldn’t really have asked for more, and in a way I’m used to it. It’ll hurt if we lose.”

“Will you want to move?”

That was quite a significant jump to make, and I wondered whether Rachel knew something I didn’t. I didn’t even have to press her to get the answer.

“Dean rang earlier, said he’d had two offers from England. I told him you’d be in touch.”

My agent’s news, I discovered with one eye on the wildcard play-offs - Chivas USA beating Portland and Sporting Kansas City overcoming Columbus Crew by identical 2-0 scorelines - was that League One outfit Wigan and Championship side QPR had made tentative approaches for my services. Both had dispensed with their managers early in the season after poor starts, and had earmarked me as a replacement.

Obviously such approaches were made in advance of any communication with Adrian Haneuer and the ownership committee, and with a single word I was able to reject their moves without anyone having ever known of their existence. On the other hand, requesting permission to speak to them would be a big step towards the door.

I had some thinking to do.

[EvilDave]

A full week later, we travelled to Chivas USA - the club that had effectively handed us the regular season crown with their thumping of Chicago - for the first leg of our conference semi-final, with the mind firmly on task.

It had not taken too long for me to make my decision, if truth be told. Wigan had been mired in the English third tier for some time and lacked sufficient appeal for me to consider swapping it for Seattle. On the other hand, QPR were a solid Championship outfit with reasonable resources behind them, but past evidence suggested a board with unrealistic expectations and an itchy trigger finger - a combination I was not exactly rushing to work with.

I allowed myself a chuckle as Valdez rattled the crossbar yet again, the third time in the match we had struck the woodwork. At this stage, I could take it in good humour - after a goalless first half, Perez had headed us ahead from a corner before Shannon netted his 23rd MLS goal of the season to double our advantage - and I was able to reflect again on my future employment.

After instructing Dean to ward off the advances from England, I had resolved not to consider any advance from across the Atlantic unless it was a Premier League club calling. It was an easy enough decision to make - I was in no hurry to get out of Seattle, a club I was very much enjoying - and made sense from a financial and family point of view as well. I expected that any move to England would be my last - unless something extraordinary took place - if it happened at all, and there was no reason to take a sideways move. If I was only attracting League One and lower Championship sides after four trophies in two years in the US, it also meant I was unlikely to be making any move to the Premier League in the near future.

With that settled and a 2-0 win secured, I could take my Sounders home for the second side as firm favourites to make the conference final. Whereas the East had thrown up an absolute classic in one of their semis - New England putting three past Montreal in the final 10 minutes of their tie to win 4-3 on the night and 5-4 on aggregate - we were far less spectacular, a Homero Cano goal after just 34 seconds pushing us out to 3-0 overall and earning a place in the final against Colorado after the Rapids followed up a goalless first leg with a 3-0 home win over San Jose.

Given the Earthquakes’ record against us in the regular season this time round, their absence from the Western final was perhaps a blessing for us. We had two weeks to prepare for the Rapids, then two legs in four days. We would be ready, or we would wind up empty-handed.

[EvilDave]

If we made it to the MLS Cup final, there was every chance we would not be renewing our rivalry with Chicago Fire. Last season, we had of course beaten the Fire in their own back yard in the showpiece finale, but the day before our conference final first leg against Colorado, the Chicago side travelled to New England and went down 2-0 to a revitalised Revolution. If they wanted to do battle again, they would have to do a lot better at home.

Home was also the venue for our second leg, meaning our first game would be away in Colorado. Seven minutes into the match, with both sides just about finding their feet in the encounter, we found ourselves behind - Alfredo Berti cutting in off the left wing and sending a daisy-cutter across Santiago and into the back of the net. Suddenly, we were up against it.

The goal kicked us into gear, and the momentum swung in an instant. From an even battle in midfield we took the ascendancy, picking up the pace and leaving the Rapids working hard to keep up. Cosgriff adopted the air of a general in midfield, ordering his team-mates around and dictating the tempo with his accurate passing. Which was fine, but we needed goals.

Thankfully, they were not long in coming. From one Cosgriff pass, Bustos collected, touched it wide of his marker to earn a yard, and then lashed a rocket into the top corner from fully 30 yards. It was a truly marvellous strike, a goal worthy of winning any game, and we were level. It was no less than we deserved.

What followed was a blitz that all but ended the tie for the Rapids. Seven minutes after Bustos’ wondergoal, Paul Salcedo scrambled home from five yards after a spot of pinball in the Colorado area, and then with the referee’s whistle in his lips, Bustos sidefooted in from 15 yards to make it 3-1. Considering it was the Rapids that had home advantage, it was as good as outcome as we could possibly have asked for.

The first leg finished with us two goals to the good, and in many ways took all the fun out of our home leg. An early headed goal from Hunter Robertson put an end to any hopes the Rapids had of clawing their way back into things, and we moved on to the MLS Cup decider for the second year running.

Where, it emerged the following day, we would take on New England. Having won the first leg 2-0 in Boston, the Revs had gone one better, rolling into Chicago and handing the Fire a 3-1 pasting to record a convincing 5-1 aggregate win. They were by no means the side we had expected to be playing in the final, and while we would start as overwhelming favourites - not least because of our seeding and therefore home advantage - we would have to very wary of a side that had earned their right to play and were clearly in fine form. Once again, we were one game away from glory.

[EvilDave]

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time, Owain, so I’ll keep it brief.”

Adrian Haneuer had asked for a few minutes of my time again, and with three days to go before the final we were both aware that the timing wasn’t great. Even so, you don’t tell your employer you’re too busy to meet.

“It’s the final, at home, champions against underdogs. We’re massive favourites with the bookmakers - you’re expecting a win, aren’t you?”

I nodded. There wasn’t much point in dressing it up as anything else.

“I’m glad - there’s no point in being defeatist. But I’ve spoken to your old boss at Prestatyn, and he told me you might just need reassuring that we won’t be getting rid of you if it all goes wrong.”

I raised an eyebrow - I hadn’t expected Haneuer to be in contact with Chris Tipping beyond an initial reference - and I was even more surprised that my old boss had been so candid about my pressure problems. It also seemed, what with Rachel’s recent line of questioning, that everybody but me was worried about it.

“Adrian, I appreciate the thought but at the moment I’m in a good place. If New England beat us - and they won’t, I’m confident of that - but if they do, I’m at a great club with good people around me, and I don’t feel the pressure right now. But thank you.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I just wanted to spell it out for you, that’s all. You’re safe regardless of the result, and you have our backing for next season. You’re doing a fantastic job for us Owain, and you need to believe that.”

As Haneuer left and closed my office door behind him, I wondered exactly what I’d done to make everyone so concerned. It was almost as if they expected New England to beat us.

[EvilDave]

The Star Spangled Banner began to play, and the capacity crowd in the Amazon Arena rose to their feet to belt out the national anthem. As ever, I stood, hand on heart in respect with a good number of the players on display. A proud Welshman managing a team of Americans with two Mexicans, a Belgian, Argentinian and Korean in the line-up, I could hardly join the crowds in full voice.

The two teams shook hands and took their positions in their respective halves, my Sounders in resplendent green kicking from left to right as I looked out from the dugout. A wave to the crowd brought a cheer from the stands, while a firm shake of Dom Kinnear’s hand would be the last interaction I had with my opposite number until the final whistle. The Glasgow-born boss had done brilliantly to bring the Revs this far, but I did not intend on giving them any more glory.

Ten minutes into the game, we had the upper hand without truly penetrating the New England backline. Salcedo looked to be the one attempting to take control in the midfield, while Rodriguez on the left was seeing plenty of the ball in his bid to get forward. The Revs’ plan seemed a simple one - soak up our pressure and hit hard and fast on the break - and all we had to do was made sure they never got the opportunity.

Twenty minutes in, very little had changed. We had been largely unable to get Cho on the ball in dangerous areas, making it difficult for us to create clear-cut chances. It was not for lack of trying either - both Cho and Bustos were drifting in and out of space to try and find an empty pocket, but to no avail. At the other end, Santiago was yet to make a save, being limited only to a few touches after passes backwards from our defenders, and the packed Amazon was not being treated to a classic.

As long as the score remained 0-0, the longer the Revs would feel they had a chance. Equally, as the whistle blew for half-time, we were quietly confident that our opponents were unable to maintain their high level of pressure for the whole 90 minutes - and almost certainly not if the match went to an extra half hour. My message for the Sounders at the break was a simple one - keep it up, stick to the plan, and take your chances if they come.

A quarter of an hour into the second period, Bustos decided that if the chance wasn’t going to come to him, he was going to create one for himself. Taking a knock-down from Sibandze, he stepped over the ball to confuse his marker before letting fly from the top of the area, and watched in frustration as the New England keeper flew to his left to tip the ball round the post. It was the closest either side had been to scoring.

Trotting over to take the corner was Cho, and our two centre-backs jogged into the penalty area to join the attack, leaving only Rodriguez defending on the halfway line. It was a dangerously attacking set-up should New England manage to break, but we needed to gamble if we were to find a winner.

In the end, our defenders’ positioning did not matter one jot. Cho whipped a vicious inswinger in towards the six-yard box, and Cosgriff raced across his man to the near post in a desperate bid to get his head on the ball. He failed to do so, the flick of his head taking place six inches beneath Cho’s delivery, but the Revs’ goalkeeper had anticipated contact. Instead, the curl on the ball took it directly over the goal-line, much to the horror of the keeper, who realised his mistake too late.and could only claw the ball into the side-netting from three yards behind the line. Our players raced over to the disbelieving Cho, who simply raised his arms and turned to the home fans in celebration. Half an hour to go, and we were ahead.

With 10 minutes to go, we remained ahead, and Marco Reus replaced our goalscorer for his last ever professional appearance. It was a risky move to remove our leading creative force, but the Revs had done very little to threaten our goal, and I owed it to Marco to give him one last ovation from the Amazon Arena. If he could finish his career with another medal, it would be the most fitting conclusion.

Three minutes remained when Santiago made his first legitimate save of the game, holding on well to a powerful header from the penalty spot. Quickly releasing Lawton down our right, he watched as seconds later the move his save had begun ended with Sibandze flashing our 18th shot of the match just wide of the New England goal. This was what dominance looked like.

In due course, the final whistle blew, the green confetti fell from the rafters, and before I knew it I was being hoisted into the air by a beaming Sounders team. For the second time in two years we were MLS and Open Cup champions, double double winners, and undisputedly the best team in America.

The celebrations were long and well-deserved. And, as they smiled when I told them, neither Rachel nor Adrian had anything to worry about.

[EvilDave]

Two days later, mercifully given the state of the alleged state of some of my players the day after our MLS Cup win, the organisers of the national competition held their annual awards ceremony to honour the best of the bunch. I picked up the manager’s gong for the second year running, Cho was named as the league MVP, Hunter Robertson was named best defender, and his partner Andrew Perez took home the fair play award, having not picked up a single booking over the course of the season. For a centre-back, it was a remarkable achievement.

It was not the last bit of business for the season, as Clint Dempsey and I had to go through the rigmarole of sifting through players for the waiver draft just four days after the final. We picked up just one player, but an exciting one - Luca Lo Vecchio, the Italian who had netted 31 goals in just 61 games for Houston in the last two seasons. Like Cano before him he would have to deal with not being an automatic first choice, but with no cost associated with the deal, it was a risk-free transaction.

We picked up precisely nobody at either of the re-entry drafts, and that was absolutely fine by me. Dempsey had a couple of irons in various fires that we would pick up immediately after the holidays, but all that was left for me to do was de-brief with Haneuer and then begin planning for next year.

“Owain, neither of us particular want a meeting, so I’ll keep this brief. This season has been incredible, we want you to stay, and we know there are other teams out there interested. What are you thinking?”

Well, he didn’t hang around.

“To be honest Adrian, I’m happy here. I’m not naive, I know a Premier League side would be very difficult to turn down, but it’s going to take a big club to draw me away from Seattle. You’ve been good to me, I’ve tried to be good to you, we’re happy. Wigan has got nothing on Tukwila.”

“Well, if a Premier League team does call, I’ll let you know - assuming Dean doesn’t get there before me - but that’s great to know. And for the record, you’ve been very good for us, and you know it.

“There’s one more thing if you don’t mind?”

“Yes Adrian?”

“There are what, eight days before Christmas? Lock up behind you, turn your phone off and disappear until after the holidays. Clint is working on the Kalenga deal, the scouts are covering the draft like never before. Go and be a dad to the girls, they need you more than we do right now.”

In the past, I would have fought back at this point - what right did he have to tell me how dispensable I was, particularly after singing my praises? But the older, more mature Owain knew better. He was right, and I had no qualms about taking his advice.

“You know what Adrian, I think I’d like that. Thank you, and see you after Christmas. Back on the 27th OK with you?”

“Definitely - we’ve got your home number if there’s anything really urgent, but otherwise consider yourself on holiday. Merry Christmas Owain.”

[EvilDave]

Haneuer was true to his word, and this Christmas was by far the most enjoyable of our time in the States. With work firmly pushed to the back of my mind, I was actually able to give Rachel and the girls the time they deserved, and our little family celebrated like I don’t think we had since we left Wales. It felt like home.

Rebecca and Bethan were both in their element with the undivided attention of Mum and Dad, and when they were too tired from playing, Rachel and I caught up on some of the time I had spent travelling the length and breadth of America. As seems to be the pattern, it was a great time to simply enjoy each other’s company, and the topic of our respective futures - mine, hers, and our family’s - came to the fore once again.

Rachel was fairly convinced that she wasn’t about to start working any time soon - and was happy with the decision. Becca still had a couple of years before moving into secondary school - I refused to use the American terminology out of principle - and my wife was keen to be around as much as possible during those formative years. I was more than happy to agree, and my fears about her loneliness were quickly dismissed with her plans to join both a local book club and volunteer for a local social enterprise. It seemed to me to be a most excellent solution.

When I finally stepped back into my Starfire office on the 27th, everything was still ticking over and nothing had been missed. Clint had also taken a break, but had not left until the 22nd, making sure he sealed the signature of our third designated player.

And what a player he was. Hailing from the footballing superpower that isn’t, the Democratic Republic of Congo, but more importantly a regular starter for none other than AC Milan over the past three seasons, 27-year-old forward Loric Kalenga would bring power, pace, skill and goals to our already prolific attack, and would hopefully be the addition that kept us one step ahead of the competition.

His arrival meant that we could now afford to lose one of our existing strikers, as I had no intention of trying to keep so many men happy with limited game time. After some deliberation - combined with the fact that, like Cacau before him, he expected DP terms to renew his deal beyond the current year and had European teams on his tail - we accepted a $6m bid from Siena for Pedro Valdez, and on New Year’s Eve another one of my first signings as Seattle boss moved onto pastures new. Make no mistake, we were now in the second Sounders generation.

We also lost Hunter Wright, the young defender wanting to test himself outside the States and signing a contract with second tier Mexican club Alebrijes. I admired his ambition - too many footballers are content with mediocrity in their homeland - but I wasn’t entirely convinced of Wright’s ability to take on the world. He would make a good player, just not with us.

That led nicely on to the SuperDraft, for which Clint and the scouting team had scoured the country in search of the hottest prospects. Our wheeling and dealing had produced no fewer than four of the top seven picks - not bad for the MLS Cup and Supporters’ Shield holders - and so there was plenty of opportunity for us to pick out the next star of the American game.

Josh Duncan, a towering centre-back out of Bradenton, Florida was given the honour of our first pick, followed shortly after by Californian right-back Orlando Smith - whose ceiling looked lower but was already good enough for a spot on our bench - and attacking midfielder Pete Rodgers from Tucson. Rodgers was unlikely to break into our first team given the sheer quality available to us in his position, but stood every chance of developing into a fine footballer indeed such was his technical ability. Finally, as has become our custom, we took a goalkeeper - Dallas-born shot stopper Marcelo Castillo. He was another with slim hopes in the short term, but we would always need goalkeepers and he would certainly become a good one.

ESPN gave us a solid B grade for our efforts - given that no team scored an A, I was very happy with the outcome - and the following day Castillo’s hopes of becoming the Sounders’ first-team goalkeeper got one step closer to reality. Having been supplanted in the starting eleven by Santiago and with Sassano preferred in the cup, Paul Tierney’s agent informed me that Greek side AEK Athens were interested in his client, and would appreciate us accepting their imminent $3m bid. On the very same day, we sent Josh Edwards to Viking Stavanger for roughly half that amount, and our war-chest for the coming season was bolstered rather nicely. Not that we needed the money.

[EvilDave]

“Keep it moving, faster, faster. Two touches in the middle, no more. Pass and move, keep this up and they won’t know what’s hit them. Faster, faster!”

The remainder of January had flown by, with no fewer than nine friendly matches arranged as we tried to build up our fitness ahead of our two-legged tie with Monterrey and the new MLS season. We went unbeaten against the usual collection of local lower-league and amateur sides, but the Mexican outfit would be a different proposition altogether - hence my instance on hard-running two-touch movement drills.

The team were responding though, and by the end of the session it was clear that we were about as sharp as we were going to be - an excellent position to be in just a week ahead of our Champions League tie. With the away leg first, we had arranged to travel a little in advance to acclimatise and get a couple of extra sessions in, and so to be ready at this point was very encouraging indeed.

Something I was not particularly looking forward to was the pre-match press conference, particularly given the Mexican press’ reputation gained in recent years of open hostility towards the managers of American clubs. And yet, whether because of my status as a Welshman or something unknown, it was from someone supposedly on our side - from NBC, if memory serves me correctly - that I was pressed on the one issue I wanted to avoid.

“Mr Williams, you know as well as I do that no MLS club has ever won the Champions League. What makes you think you can change that?”

“If I didn’t believe I had a squad capable of winning the tournament, we wouldn’t be here. We’ve worked hard to qualify, hard to get out of the group, hard to prepare for Monterrey. In knockout football anything can happen, and we’re good enough to win through here.”

I thought my answer was suitably vague and confident, but the journalist in question demanded another go.

“You say anything can happen, but the simple fact is that for more than 60 years an American win hasn’t happened. Can Sounders fans realistically expect anything other than another loss in Mexico?”

He wasn’t pulling any punches, that’s for sure. I took a sip of my water to buy a little time, and then responded the only way I could.

“Records are there to be broken, and there was a time when even Club América hadn’t won this tournament - look at them now. Our supporters may not be particularly optimistic, but this group of players has won everything else they’ve entered recently, and I see no reason why they can’t win the Champions League as well.”

It was a bold statement to make, but someone needed to shut my journalist friend up. The headlines wrote themselves, of course, but after a tight goalless draw which saw Kalenga strike the post on debut and our Mexican hosts rattle our woodwork twice, the headlines were far more positive. We had matched Monterrey blow for blow, and would have home advantage in a one-off game to progress. Our fate was in our hands.

[EvilDave]

The new MLS season would start before the second leg, and already I made the decision to rotate the squad in Montreal in order to keep our key men fresh for the Champions League. Having spoken to Haneuer, Allen and Nordstrom before the first leg, they had given me the green light to prioritise the continental competition - as long as we were still competing at the top end of the Supporters’ Shield standings.

In the past, such a demand would have been a tough ask, but with the squad at its strongest and the owners placing absolutely no importance on our quest for a third straight Open Cup, I felt very comfortable with the expectations placed upon me. If we weren’t competing for MLS honours I was doing something wrong, and breaking the nation’s NACL duck would be a far more significant feather in the cap - for the Sounders and for Owain Williams.

As such, the fact that we struggled in the Canadian snow should not have come as too great a surprise. Our defence was solid enough, our midfield was able to comfortably hold the majority of possession, but with Montreal digging in and sitting deep, we were having a hard time generating anything special going forward.

But our squad was simply stronger than theirs, and my ability to turn to a bench full of players that would walk into the Impact line-up turned the tide. On went Sibandze with 20 minutes to play, and after 15 of those minutes he paid me back by planting a header into the top corner. Two minutes later, as a Montreal attack broke down, the same men started and finished a counter, running 50 yards with the ball at his feet before finishing well to make it 2-0 and inflicting a rather harsh defeat on our hosts.

A week later, we hosted Colorado in another game that we didn’t particularly want - especially as just four days later we had Monterrey to deal with - but nevertheless we went ahead and did our job in a thoroughly professional manner. The Rapids recorded just three shots on goal, only one forcing a save from Santiago, and at the other end Hunter Robertson headed home a corner in first-half stoppage time to give us two wins from two. We weren’t at our fluid best, but we were winning.

That was good news as the Mexicans rolled into town, and the Amazon Arena packed to the rafters for what was one of the most important matches in the Sounders’ recent history. The equation was a simple one. Victory meant semi-finals, and a genuine chance of rewriting the record books. Defeat, or even a score draw, would see us dumped out in the last eight like so many MLS clubs before us.

I, for one, believed we could do it.

[EvilDave]

More importantly, so did my men in green as we kicked off against Monterrey. On paper they had the advantage - no salary cap meant they were able to assemble a squad worth, and indeed paid, millions - but we were in good form, were playing well, and really had nothing to lose. If the visitors went out, they had failed. If we were eliminated, it would quickly be forgotten about as another false hope crushed.

The visitors poured forward in the opening minutes, knowing that even a single goal would mean we needed an outright win on the night to reach the semis. Santiago had to be on his toes and three shots came in the opening five minutes, two whistling wide from distance and the third a scuffed half-volley that posed no problems for our first-choice goalkeeper. Monterrey’s early possession was worrying, but we had the tools to turn it around.

Fifteen minutes in, we had managed to even things out on the stats sheet, even if in reality the Mexicans were still in the ascendancy. We had broken our shooting duck - Kalenga dragging one wide from the edge of the area - but still our visitors were looking the more likely to score, and we needed to do something about it.

Unusually, I acted early. At the next break in play, Cosgriff got the call from the sideline and carried my instruction to drop deeper onto the field of play, and despite the irregularity of the call, my team obediently hung back off the Monterrey players the next time we conceded possession. The very next pass was unnecessarily rushed, and I allowed myself a smirk on the sideline.

Ten minutes later they did it again, a Mexican midfielder expecting the pressure and playing a blind pass straight to the feet of compatriot Romo on the turn. His first touch stunned the ball three yards to Robertson, and our centre-back found Lawton on the right rushing into space.

The pass came at an awkward height for our full-back, but his improvisation allowed him to take the ball on the thigh and then knock it infield for Bustos. A quick shift of the feet saw our Argentine past his man, and then came the pass - a perfect ball between two of Monterrey’s back three for Cho, who lifted the ball over the onrushing goalkeeper and into the back of the net. It was our first shot on target, it was one and two-touch football all the way, and the visitors were stunned. Advantage Seattle.

The goal put the wind in our sails, and immediately from the restart we were able to win the ball back, Rodriguez hassling his man on the left and forcing him to take it out of bounds over the touchline. His throw to Romo was quickly rolled into Shannon on the edge of the box, his one-two with Kalenga put him through on goal only for a perfect sliding tackle to deny him, and right on cue Cho latched onto the loose ball and fired home to double the lead less than two minutes after we had opened the scoring.

We were in dreamland, the Amazon was in a state of ecstasy, and our opponents had no answer. We played out the 10 minutes to half-time exuding confidence, and I had little reason to say anything much at all during the interval. My opposite number made two of his three changes at the break, injury forced him into his third after just 10 minutes of the second period, and we just needed to see out the final half hour without conceding twice.

In the end, we didn’t even concede once, Santiago making a couple of good saves to preserve his clean sheet and the quartet of Shannon, Kalenga, Cho and Bustos keeping the visitors honest at the other end. The actual scoreline didn’t matter to us - 2-0, 2-1, 6-4 or 12-11 - but in the end it was the former, our quick-fire double seeing us through to the final four and shutting up the journalist who had doubted us so strongly in Mexico.

There would be just under a month until the semi-final stage - and no fewer than four MLS matches in the meantime - but the preparations would start immediately. The draw for the final four was the main talking point for the two days beforehand, and ultimately we drew the one side nobody wanted. Instead of being paired with ‘local’ rivals Chivas USA - who had overcome Costa Rican side Saprissa in the ‘easy’ quarter-final - and thereby guaranteeing American representation in the final, we watched on as our MLS colleagues were drawn against Léon, leaving us with Club América. That’s six-time winners and reigning champions Club América for those not versed in North American football, meaning we would be up against it from the word go. Once again, it would be Mexico vs USA, and once again we would need every ounce of our talent to make it through.

[EvilDave]

“It’s very flattering Dean, and please do tell them that, but I’ve said before it’ll take a Premier League side to take me away from Seattle, and I stand by that. Particularly with the Champions League campaign as it is, I can’t walk away now and I’m not looking for an exit.”

“Understood Owain, I just thought I’d check. They’re a big club, but if they’re not big enough that’s fine. I’ll let them down gently, don’t worry.”

Derby County were the latest club to make enquiries as to my availability, having just removed former Ireland goalkeeper Shay Given from the manager’s hotseat with the side in the wrong half of the Championship table. Dean was right - they were a big club - but I had a good thing going in Seattle and was not about to be tempted away by a second division outfit.

The Rams had made their approach between our 1-0 win in Dallas - gained thanks to a Loric Kalenga scissor-kick - and our subsequent game in Vancouver, where once again the Canadian weather was forecast to be unkind to us. Snow was gone with the arrival of March, but strong winds and heavy rain were anticipated to sweep across the city at almost exactly the same time as our kick-off, which would not do any favours to our passing game.

What it did mean, however, was that our opponent’s more direct style of play was rendered almost impossible by the conditions, handing us the early impetus. Nevertheless, set-pieces remained a danger, and when Santiago lost one in the swirling wind, John Brick was on hand to tap into the unguarded net and put us behind after half an hour.

Brick merely served to agitate my Sounders, and fittingly it was his error that allowed us restore parity just minutes before the break. A chipped backpass from 30 yards out only made it two thirds of the way there before being picked off by Luca Lo Vecchio for his first Seattle goal, and straight from the restart the same man stole possession before playing Cho in to turn it around before the interval.

In the second half, with a lead under our belts, we could afford not to force the issue, and in slipping back into our usual rhythm succeeded in taking Vancouver apart. Our simple plan of keeping the ball on the floor as much as possible proved as effective as any other, but our third goal finally came with a rare aerial adventure, Matt Lawton’s cross catching the wind and carrying over everyone into the top corner from 35 yards out. In the final 20 minutes we added two more from Shannon and Cho, and left the Whitecaps reeling after a thumping 5-1 win.

We only had three days before we were expected in Portland, and the quick turnaround helped us stay in top form. The same line-up took to the field against the Timbers - I had already made the decision to rotate in the next match against Toronto - and this time we didn’t wait to fall behind before blitzing our rivals. Between the 24th and 40th minutes we found the net three times - two from Cho and one from Bustos - to seal the three points, and a second from our Argentine maestro meant a late consolation did nothing whatsoever to dampen our spirits. Two weeks out from América, we were on fire.

By this point, I was becoming fixated on the Champions League - something I believe was eminently forgivable given the weight of history and the nature of our opposition - but Rachel was once again firmly on the money with her insight into my own dogged determination.

“If América win - and they might, from what you’ve told me they’re rather good - you are going to be able to get on with things in the league, aren’t you?”

“I hope so darling, I really do. I must admit, Toronto and Portland don’t get the blood pumping quite as much as the Champions League games, even if we are blowing teams away every week.”

“You keep telling everyone you’re happy here darling, are you sure?”

“Am I happy with a perfect family, an ever-swelling bank account, the complete backing of my employers, a great backroom staff and probably the strongest squad in MLS history? I am, yes - very happy. It’s just…”

“Go on…”

“It’s not the biggest challenge at the minute. You remember when I was…”

“Back at Prestatyn, fighting TNS every week?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“You’re not as complicated as you think, my love. That drove you to the edge, don’t you remember? You were looking for a job afterwards that had less pressure than that. It wasn’t good for you.”

“You’re probably right.”

“If you called Chris Tipping now, you’d have the job tomorrow, but you won’t and you shouldn’t and you know it. Don’t take this for granted darling, you’ve built a great team here and you’ve earned the right to enjoy it.”

I had been told.

[EvilDave]

Rachel’s words meant that when Cho hit the back of the net eight minutes into our game against Toronto, I celebrated with a little more gusto than in recent weeks. Twelve minutes later the same man netted our second, and by the half hour mark Robertson’s header had me out of my dugout for the third time in the first half. Matt Lawton tried to help out our hapless visitors by heading inadvertently past Santiago for 3-1, but an injury-time strike from Shannon made it 4-1, and a mere 13 goals in our last three games. We were unbeaten since October, and could not have picked a better time to play the reigning Champions League champions.

That said, there was never going to be a good time to take on Mexico’s most successful club. More domestic titles than anyone else in the country, the highest number of domestic cup wins, six Champions League titles, the famous Estadio Azteca - everything about the tie pointed to a win for the favourites, and to a patronising pat on the head for little ol’ Seattle, who would try and yet ultimately fail.

The only people who truly believed we could win it were all employed by the Sounders in some capacity or other, and even then there were some doubts among the administrative staff. They wouldn’t be taking part in the game though, and the matchday squad of 18 were in no doubt that, if they executed the plan, they were more than capable of doing some serious damage to our opponents.

They didn’t just believe it, but did it. We passed the ball just four times from kick-off before Luca Lo Vecchio decided to chance his arm, weaving between two defenders and past a third before slotting into the bottom corner after just 26 seconds. The fans in the Amazon, many of whom were yet to settle in their seats, could not believe what they were seeing, and we had the advantage.

Four minutes later, we had the ball in the net again, and once more it was a moment of inspiration from our Italian frontman, controlling the ball and turning in one fluid motion before hammering a half-volley beyond the goalkeeper’s dive. Then, with the game barely 20 minutes old, a miscued clearance from a corner allowed us to play a second ball into the box, where Kalenga rose highest to flick into the far corner. There was a lot of football still to be played, but in no time at all we had scored three goals against the best team on the continent. It was the stuff of dreams.

But dreams, as we all know, can quickly become nightmares. Stung by our lightning start, América came at us hard, and within 10 minutes of Kalenga’s goal were on the scoresheet themselves, Fabian Mar curling a sumptuous effort beyond the desperate dive of Santiago after five minutes of constant pressure. Eight minutes later, and with only five to play before the interval, we again cracked under the weight of their attack, Baldemar Elizondo cutting in from his starting position on the right flank and driving hard and low into the bottom corner. From 3-0 to 3-2 in the blink of an eye, all of a sudden we were the ones in desperate need of the interval. It came with no further goals, and we were terribly relieved.

[EvilDave]

“The first 25 minutes were the best football I’ve ever seen you play, and I mean that. That was absolutely brilliant.

“But for heaven’s sake, don’t let them scare you. Ignore the history, ignore the strip they’re wearing, ignore the name on the scoreboard. You’re better than them - you scored three past them already - and they know it. Don’t let the fear get to you - they haven’t got anything else to work with.”

It was a long shot, and I wasn’t convinced at this point that it was entirely true, but I couldn’t tell the players that. América had practically been snorting brimstone since our third goal went in, and if they decided to go on a rampage, we would have little chance of stopping them. Our only hope was to throw everything at keeping them out, and try and grab another goal on the break.

It only took 12 minutes for all our plans to crumble to nothing. We were unlucky - Perez won his header cleanly but landed awkwardly, stumbling and creating a gap which Mar raced through to meet the incoming cross and turn beyond Santiago. From having an unassailable 3-0 lead and looking unstoppable, we were suddenly tied at 3-3 , having handed our favoured opponents not only a route back into the tie, but also three massive away goals. In other words, we were staring down the barrel, a position made worse when Kalenga twisted his ankle and needed replacing. Jon Shannon was needed more than ever.

Having restored parity, the Mexicans shifted down a gear, perhaps content with their haul of away goals and not wanting to risk getting hit on the break. Thankfully, it allowed us a little room to breathe and think, and shortly after the hour mark I made our second change, sending Camacho in for Romo alongside Cosgriff in the middle of the park. Not long after we hit our first shot in an age, and although it barely troubled the goalkeeper it was worth noting simply for its existence.

With the pace slowing and time ticking we entered the final quarter of an hour locked at 3-3, and looked like heading to the Azteca with something of a mountain to climb. Another attack from the Mexicans saw the ball wind up at our goalkeeper’s feet, and Santiago wisely picked it up to buy a few more valuable seconds before launching it downfield.

The ball sailed into the visitors’ half, and a defensive head met the ball. Awkwardly. The defender misread the flight of the ball, sending it skidding towards his own goal and with considerable distance still to go. As the Amazon held its breath, the fresh legs of Jon Shannon were the first to the ball, taking a touch before shooting hard into the net and making it 4-3. It was by no means deserved, but we were ahead again.

Of course, with little time left and América coming forward in waves once more, we conceded. This time there was no mistake, just wonderful play from the two wingers, Lawton tied in knots on our right and Elizondo meeting the cross at the far post with a powerful header before wheeling away to celebrate in the corner. Where he stopped.

To the joy of everyone in green, the linesman judged Elizondo to have made his run a split-second too early, and raised his flag accordingly. Even the replays on television that night couldn’t determine whether or not the official was correct, but the goal didn’t stand and that was all that mattered. Minutes later, the final whistle blew, with the scoreboard reading Sounders 4-3 América. It was a game for the ages, and it gave us a fighting chance across the Rio Grande.

[EvilDave]

However much I was supposed to be focusing on the next game, I shared the view of everyone at the club that the fact we had to go to Mexico via Colorado was nothing more than a huge inconvenience. We were four days from the biggest match of the year, and yet had to be redirected for a league game nobody wanted to play.

For the Rapids of course, this was the perfect time to take on the all-conquering Sounders, so they could hardly be chastised for not suggesting a postponement themselves. No, they were well within their rights to go for it against what would be a heavily rotated side on our part, and they deserved the two goals they got.

Unfortunately for Colorado, even our second string managed to grab a draw, an early penalty and then a late header from debutant Josh Duncan earning us a point to maintain our unbeaten start to the MLS season. We were top of the early standings even though the competition was firmly second priority - which perhaps said more about our opponents than it did about us.

That was that, and we were ready to take on América. A couple of the papers cottoned on to the America vs América line, even dubbing us America’s Team and urging the whole nation to get behind us. It was clichéd journalism, but now if never before the authors had a point - with a home World Cup on the horizon, we would be disappointed with any less than seven or eight Sounders in the USA squad. Our entire defensive unit - Santiago, Rodriguez, Robertson, Perez and Lawton were all regulars in the national team, and our semi-final was the perfect example of America’s best against their Mexican rivals. We had the entire country behind us.

Yet in the Azteca it felt like we had an entire nation against us, a crowd pushing six figures roaring on the yellow shirts of the home side. Ten minutes in they held their heads in their hands as Fabian Mar’s shot came crashing back into play off the crossbar, and we escaped with an early warning. It would not be our last.

Midway through the first half, having yet to break out of our half, an ambitious ball from Rodriguez was intercepted on the halfway line and played immediately forward put to the opposite wing. Mar drifted infield before playing the reverse ball, and Ramon Morales was on hand to flash a shot past Santiago’s raised hands and into the top of the net. América had the lead on the night, and the advantage on away goals. We needed something, and showed no signs of getting it.

That remained the picture at the break - 4-4 on aggregate, with the Mexicans holding all the aces. Five minutes into the second half, having used two of my three substitutions to try and turn the game, we almost suffered for a second time, Morales sending a curling effort against the foot of the post and out for a goal kick after wriggling free of Robertson. If we were in a boxing match, the referee would have stopped the bout long ago.

We were still yet to hit a shot in anger at the hour mark, when Sibandze at least tested the goalkeeper with an angry effort from 25 yards. We were struggling to get into the hosts’ half, but as long as the deficit stayed at one, we had a hope - no matter how slim it seemed.

And then. Having survived two shots clattering off the woodwork and a disallowed goal in the first leg, we were handed a lifeline. On a rare foray forward, Shannon managed to position himself between two of the back three as a cross came in from the right, and appeared to have his shirt pulled back as he stretched for the header. The linesman’s flag went up immediately, but the Costa Rican referee took an age to make up his mind. When it did, the Azteca erupted in a chorus of boos and whistles. With 18 minutes remaining, we had a penalty to tie the game.

The home team’s protests lasted a good two minutes, every extra second heaping the pressure on Ollie Cosgriff. Finally, the officials managed to clear the melee, with torrents of abuse pouring from the stands onto both the referee and our holding midfielder. The whistle blew, Cosgriff took three steps and drilled it low to the right of the goalkeeper, who guessed correctly.

But the penalty was too good, too pure, too accurate, and the ball crashed into the inside netting to make it 1-1 on the night and 5-4 on aggregate. Ten minutes to go and with an Américan storm on the way, we had the lead.

The storm came, and in some style. In the remaining 10 minutes of regulation time, plus the four minutes given for stoppages, a yellow plague swarmed around our goalmouth, peppering Santiago with shots and keeping Perez and Robertson the busiest men on the field. Cosgriff dropped back into the defensive line to make a back five, and try as they might, América simply couldn’t create the clear-cut chance they needed. Not until the whistle was all but in the referee’s lips.

Morales and Mar combined once more to free Elizondo, whose first touch thankfully took him wide of goal. Perez went out to block the shot, the cut-back came in, and there was Salcedo to hammer the ball to halfway. With that, the final whistle blew and the officials had to be led off the field by CONCACAF security staff, such was the ferocity of the hatred from the stands. Meanwhile, I joined my players on the pitch as we celebrated in front of the small green pocket of Sounders lost in the vastness of the Azteca. Somehow, we had done it.

[EvilDave]

It was the biggest two weeks of our lives. We had one week to prepare for the first leg of the Champions League final, three days before a rather frustrating MLS clash with the Galaxy, and then four days before welcoming our opponents back to Seattle for the final showdown. Everything would be decided by the end of April, and Adrian Haneuer wanted to make sure what the expectations were.

“Owain, if you win the Champions League there’ll be calls for your own stand or stadium, and to be honest I’m surprised there haven’t been already. León are a good side though, and you’ve already far exceeded our expectations. There is absolutely no pressure on you, be clear about that.”

Club León had ended any hopes we might have had in playing an all-American final, following up a goalless draw in Carson with a 2-0 home win over Chivas USA to book their place in what would also be their first ever Champions League final. They were a good team - you had to be to get this far - but on paper they weren’t in the same league as América, which bothered me.

“Not from you, maybe,” I replied. “But I know we can win, we’ve beaten two better teams already and if we can’t finish the job it’ll be hard to take.”

“In which case it’ll be my job to get you to a psychologist Owain. Whoever we were paired with in the final, you’ve done brilliantly to get there and should be more than proud of your achievements. We would love a win - it’s what we’ve dreamed about - but we can’t expect one. Neither can you.”

That, I thought, is why I, and not Adrian Haneuer, was in the business of football management.

The media were all over us in the build-up, turning up to our usually quiet training sessions, pestering players on their way home from the training ground and asking me for a comment every time I passed by. I gave it to them in the vaguest possible terms, determined not to be distracted by their microphones, and moved swiftly on.

Rachel was the other person who made it her habit to worry about how I was getting on - which you might expect more from your wife than your employer. Yet this time, she was taking a different tack.

“You believe you’re going to win, don’t you darling?”

“I do, I’m bordering on sure. And you’re going to tell me to stay grounded, aren’t you my love?”

“Actually, no. This is the biggest week of your career, and I don’t want to pretend otherwise. If you believe you’re going to win it, I’m going to stand behind you all the way. If you don’t, I’ll be here to pick up the pieces and start over. But I don’t want that to happen, and if you don’t think it will, then neither do I.”

Her new-found confidence was confusing, but liberating. I could be bullish with the squad, telling them just how good they were and how they could succeed where Chivas had failed. I could concentrate on our gameplan, recognising what León were going to try, but not compromising our own tactics accordingly. We would play our game, and they would deal with us.

As we lined up in the Nou Camp - the Mexican namesake of Barcelona’s hallowed ground - we were alone, a flash of white against the green of the home side. Rachel had to stay behind with the girls - although they already had their tickets for the second leg - and once again it was Seattle against all of Mexico in a bid to make history. We were ready, and this time we believed.

[EvilDave]

This was the first time the Sounders had made it further than the semi-final in the club’s history, and indeed the first time past the quarters for an entire decade. Make no mistake, this was uncharted territory for the Seattle club, and nobody really knew what to expect.

Club León were joining us there, boldly going where no previous iteration of their squad had done before. For many years, León had played second fiddle to the likes of América, Chivas and Santos Laguna, claiming the occasional title in the complex dual-championship play-off system that is the Mexican league. Just as we had fallen under the spotlight of the US media, our opponents’ story had captured their own press pack, and as favourites they would be feeling the pressure.

If it did affect them, however, they did not show it in the opening moments of the first leg. The atmosphere was, of course, nothing like the cauldron of hostility we had faced in the Azteca, but nevertheless we were made distinctly unwelcome, and our hosts tried to turn their passionate support into an advantage on the pitch. Ruben Roman looked a real menace up front, and inside the opening 10 minutes rose highest to head beyond Santiago, only see the ball clip the top of the bar of its way over.

But we were by no means constantly on the back foot, and whereas against América we had little choice but to let our opponents dictate to us, on this occasion we had our fair share of the ball. By the midway point of the half we were back to an equal footing, and earned a corner from a promising attack, Sibandze’s shot on the turn cannoning off the legs of a defender and bouncing wide. Cho flighted the ball in only for a León head to meet it first. The second ball came in and was duly cleared once more, only for Adrian Romo to smash it on the half-volley.

Starting straight and quickly bending to the right off the outside of the boot, the ball beat the dive of the goalkeeper and, to our holding midfielder’s frustration, crashed off the angle of post and bar and out for a throw. Romo threw his hands up in frustration, but for a brief moment the only sound from the stands came from the pocket of Sounders fans in the away end, and our opponents knew they had a game on their hands.

That did not mean that they sat back and allowed us to attack - in fact, quite the opposite. Desperate to get the go-ahead goal before the break, a quick interchange of passing 40 yards from our goal saw the dangerous Roman suddenly in behind and haring in on goal, with only Santiago between him and 1-0.

Once again, our goalkeeper came up trumps, thrusting out a big left paw to deny León’s top scorer and keep us level going in at half-time. This time, there would be no great tactical switch-up, no inspired change to try and give us the impetus - just an instruction to keep going, stick to the plan, and stay in the tie for the home game. Seven minutes after the restart, we had so much more.

The goal came with a superb piece of movement from Bustos, our playmaker making a darting run from the edge of the penalty area to collect a ball out wide from Rodriguez, and in doing so earning himself a good yard of space. That space allowing him to turn, pick his spot, and slip a square ball across the six-yard line for Sibandze to tap in between two defenders. The Nou Camp fell silent save for the jubilation in the away end, and we have both the lead on the night and an invaluable away goal to take home with us.

Remarkably, León managed just two more shots on target in the remaining 40 minutes. The first was a speculative effort from 30 yards out, forcing Santiago into little more than a routine catch. It was the end result of a lengthy spell of possession for the hosts with around 20 minutes to play, and was a most satisfactory outcome from my point of view. The second, with just four minutes remaining, was very different.

With both sides having made their three changes, León had thrown caution to the wind in a bid to get back into the game, and we had just about managed to hold them off. That was until Cosgriff gave the ball away in midfield under pressure, and the pace of Ruben Roman once again gave our centre-back pairing no chance. Santiago came racing out of his goal to meet the striker, resulting in a meeting of the two 20 yards from goal.

Knowing our goalkeeper’s hands were now out of action, Roman opted for the chip, which Santiago hopelessly attempted to head away as he slid at the striker’s feet. He got nowhere near it, and could only turn and watched as the ball came down behind the goal-line but wide of the post. We had survived, the score stayed 1-0, and all of a sudden we were favourites to lift the Champions League.

[EvilDave]

The big occasion would have to wait, because once again the MLS fixture calendar proved as inflexible as it had during the semi-finals. Had it not occurred to anybody in the USSF that, if they wanted their teams to enjoy continental success, they should perhaps consider not forcing them to play competitive matches between two legs a week apart?

Nevertheless, our game against LA Galaxy was as notable for the swelling press coverage we received as for the match itself, which would forever be remembered by young midfielder Pete Rodgers. Named in the starting line-up for his first ever professional appearance, he marked it midway through the first half with a rising drive into the top corner from 25 yards, and then again in the second half with a delightful chipped pass to set the second of Jon Shannon’s two goals. A routine 3-0 win, even with the first eleven rested, and my concerns over the competitive of MLS crept back into my mind.

Yet the post-match press conference was all about the Champions League, with only one of the journalists present even referring to Rodgers - and even then only in the context of playing himself in the line-up for the final. I must have answered the same question four or five times before finally bringing things to a close, and not a moment too soon. Yes, we were in a strong position, yes, the lead probably made us favourites, no, nothing was decided yet.

We had three days to train for the second leg, three days to prepare as thoroughly as we possibly could for León’s return visit, three days to put ourselves in the best possible position to claim the Champions League for the first time in Seattle and American history. We carried the weight of a nation's expectations, and needed every minute of preparation we could get.

Our visitors did not have the distraction of a domestic match between the two legs, and so had flown straight up to Washington state to begin their acclimatisation and training sessions. Their domestic rivals might have had the opportunity to steal a march on them, but their federation understood that Champions League glory would render any league setbacks irrelevant. If only the Americans had the same perspective.

Even so, having taken the rare step of declaring before the first leg that I expected us to win, I was now in the even less usual position of finding my team favourites in a continental clash. At Prestatyn, we were only ever favourites against the domestic champions of San Marino in early qualifying rounds, and at Adelaide we had not even been expected to get out of the groups. Now, with a 1-0 lead from the first leg, with the Amazon Arena cheering us on, we would be odds-on to lift the title.

Mentally, I still hadn’t quite figured that out. How much it mattered, we would soon found out.

[EvilDave]

“You’re still awake aren’t you?”

“Yes darling, I haven’t slept a wink.”

There was little point in trying to lie to Rachel - my body’s circadian rhythm had been shot to pieces by the build-up to the final, and at 3am I was still wide awake as I laid next to my wife.

“Are you worried?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m more confident than I thought I would be.”

“What is it then?”

“I just can’t switch off. Formations, tactics, options, substitutions, changes. My head’s buzzing.”

“You’ve already decided what you’re going to do though, haven’t you?”

“Of course. Right after the first game. That doesn’t stop it though.”

Rachel fell silent for a few minutes, to the extent that I thought she had fallen back to sleep. Eventually, she rolled over to join me in staring at our ceiling.

“Talk me through it.”

“Through what?”

“What you’re doing to do. Tell me your plans, get it out your head.”

And so, for roughly half an hour I talked me sleep-deprived wife through my plans for León, detailing my starting line-up, proposed substitutions depending on the state of the game, how I might change my tactics accordingly. By the end, Rachel was sound asleep, and I was not in the least bit surprised.

More shocking was the fact that, within 15 minutes of finishing my monologue, I too was out like a light.

[EvilDave]

“Now then gentlemen, you can hear the noise out there. This is the day we’ve all been waiting for, the moment your time at this club has been building up to, the moment you will tell your grandchildren about.

“Never before has an MLS side won the Champions League. Today, we stand on the brink of history. There have been several people, many of them so-called experts, who have claimed such a victory would be impossible, that the cards are stacked against us and that we will always be inferior.

“Today, we have the chance to prove them wrong. In my mind, we already have. We beat Monterrey when nobody expected us to, and then we sent América home when nobody gave us a hope. Those results have not been lucky, flukey flashes in a pain. We’ve been consistent, we’re unbeaten, we haven’t lost a game since October. We’ve earned this.”

I began to pace as I found my rhythm, glancing down at my watch to see how much longer I had before the referee’s knock on the door. This was my last chance to assure my men of their ability, and I did not want to waste it.

“León will be sat across this corridor worried about what you can do to them. We won in Mexico, and they aren’t used to people doing that. They’ve got to play better than they did a week ago, and they know that if they don’t deliver they will be seen as failures.

“If you let them come back, you will not be seen as failures. You will be seen as bottlers, too nervous, no composure. You will go down in the record books as the team that couldn’t hold on.

“But, gentlemen, that is down to you. You are better than this lot, and you have proved it already. You’re already a goal to the good, you’ve already put fear in their hearts, you’ve already starting writing our names on the trophy.

“In 90 minutes’ time, I expect you to have finished the job. I expect you to have made history. I expect silverware.

“We go out there now, and we play our game. I don’t need to tell you what that is. You’ve been doing it all season, and nobody, not one single team, has got the better of you. Tonight, you will not let that change. Tonight, you will be champions.”

Andrew Perez led the roar from the players, who had listened intently throughout my speech. I had no idea how much it would affect them, whether I would crush them with pressure or instill them with confidence. All I knew is that everything would soon be settled.

[EvilDave]

My head sunk into my hands, the Amazon fell silent, and the white shirts of León raced over to their manager in the next dugout to celebrate. Goalscorer Jorge Calderon eventually peeled his team-mates from the bundle, and saluted the travelling Mexican supporters one more time before taking up his position ready for the restart.

Inside, everything was churning. Of all the possibilities I had talked through with Rachel, a goal midway through the first half for the visitors was not one I had given much thought to. Especially not when the goal came courtesy of a catastrophic goalkeeping error that would almost certainly ruin the confidence of one of our key players.

Santiago hadn’t put the ball in our net, but he had done everything within his power to help Calderon do the job. Romo should never have played the pass back, but our goalkeeper had called for it despite a poor starting position, come out despite the striker having a significant headstart, and then watched powerlessly as the forward simply waltzed round him into the penalty area and slotted into the unguarded net.

It was the nature of the goal as much as the fact of it that made me despondent. After hammering home the point that we were better than León and that it was the visitors who needed to force the issue, we had gifted them a way back into the match, gifted them the momentum, and inflicted a gaping wound in our own confidence in the process. Santiago’s chin was on his chest, and that in itself would not be doing our defence any good.

But then again, neither would my own moping, and so reluctantly I dragged myself from my seat in the dug-out, doing my best impression of someone unmoved by the preceding calamity. Barking orders to Perez, trying to lift the spirits of Santiago, instructing our front four to give the midfield more options. I may not have believed it myself, but I couldn’t let the players know that.

Whatever the impact of my gesticulating, it had the desired effect. For three or four minutes we had the ascendancy, and then Cho was bundled over on the edge of the penalty area to force a dangerous free-kick. Our Korean international dusted himself off to take the set-piece but was left disappointed as his effort bounced straight back off the four-man León wall.

But Cho was still alive to the game, and immediately chipped one to the left of the penalty area into the path of Bustos, who controlled the dropping ball on his thigh before hitting a first-time shot low before the goalkeeper could react. The dive came too late to make a difference, and with 33 minutes on the clock we were back in charge.

A few minutes later, the Jamaican official blew his whistle to signal half-time, and we were 45 minutes away from Champions League success. Of course, if the first half was anything to go by it would almost certainly not be that simple, but it was creeping ever closer.

[EvilDave]

“Owain, how does it feel to be the first American winners of the Champions League?”

We hadn’t even managed to get the podium onto the Amazon turf before the press pack engulfed us, but at this point I didn’t care one jot. I can’t even remember what my answer was, but it satisfied the cameras.

“Owain, what did you say to your team at half-time? They were unstoppable in the second half.”

She wasn’t wrong. For 25 minutes after the interval, we were simply unplayable, putting in perhaps the best performance I had ever seen from my Sounders. It took just 90 seconds for us to make it 2-1 on the night, a corner from the left allowed to drop in the penalty area and Hunter Robertson transforming into a world-class poacher to stab home the loose ball.

Ten minutes later it was 3-1 and all over barring a disaster. This time it came from a León free-kick, our wall doing its job and then releasing Lawton to break down the right. He had the beating of his man for pace, reached the edge of the penalty area, and then crossed low for Shannon to open up his body and sidefoot across the goalkeeper and into the far corner.

Then, with the aggregate score at 4-1 and the game all but dead, we drove not one but two more nails in the Mexicans’ coffin. In the 67th minute, Cho took advantage of a small pocket of space to drive in from the edge of the penalty area, and then immediately from the restart we won back possession, released Bustos, and the diminutive Argentine finished off the visitors with an exhibition goal, dummying the goalkeeper, checking back past the covering defender, and then chipping into the corner to seal the deal. Five on the night, six on aggregate, and we had handed León an absolute hammering.

“Owain, what happens now? You’ve made history, you’ve added the Champions League to your MLS success, where do the Sounders go from here?”

It was a much harder question to answer, and given that we were back in domestic action at the weekend it was not one I had particularly long to think about. I said something clichéd about business as usual and maintaining our focus, and then finally joined my players to celebrate in front of the adoring Amazon crowd.

After the León players received their runner-up medals from the CONCACAF dignitaries, we were finally ready to step up to the podium. In numerical order my men marched up one by one, with captain Andrew Perez joining me at the back of the queue. With the crowd still singing and the now-familiar green confetti falling from the rafters once more, I took one side of the hefty trophy while my captain took the other. As the stadium announcer finally reached our club’s name, he hoisted the silverware into the Seattle air.  

Eyes closed, my mind travelled back to the corresponding moment in China when, against the odds, my Adelaide side overcame Shandong Luneng in the final of the Asian competition. Back then, I had not only to battle through against superior opposition, but also internal strife, having to contend with a reduced squad thanks to the financial mismanagement of one Brett McGregor. It was vindication for a struggle.

This time, the sensation could not have been more different. I knew that Rachel was about to send the girls out onto the pitch to join the celebrations, and I also knew that Adrian Haneuer, Paul Allen and Erik Nordstrom were stood in their box, applauding with beaming smiles, ready to produce an official statement of congratulations, and in all likelihood reward me with an improved contract. From the owners to Jide and Clint, from the scouting staff to the cleaners, this had been a real team effort, and it felt wonderful.

We only had three free days before an MLS game against San Jose, but there was no way I was about to tell my players to tone down the celebrations. We had made history - and in some style - and everybody involved deserved the chance to enjoy it. And, it goes without saying, we did.

[EvilDave]

I woke up the following morning with bleary eyes and four missed calls on my mobile.

That would be enough to worry any man, but Rachel was already up and pottering around the house, while Bethan and Rebecca had left for school earlier that morning. It wasn’t a family emergency, and so I was more curious than worried. Swiping to unlock my phone, I tapped my way through the apps to figure out who it was that had been trying to contact me.

Dean Thomson. Four times. That woke me up.

I rang him as soon as I had come to my senses, and he was not best pleased at my delay.

“I’m sorry Dean, I was rather busy celebrating last night. What’s so important that you were ringing me in the early hours?”

“Well, you might not be aware but I have a client that now has not one but two Champions League titles to their name on two different continents. I wonder if it occurred to you that such a client might be somewhat in demand?”

“Already? Don’t these people know how to do things tactfully?”

“These things move quickly Owain, very quickly - that’s why I wanted you when I did. Speaking of doing things well, that’s exactly what these gentlemen are proposing.”

“Dean, I’ve just woken up and my head hurts. Who are we talking about here? QPR aren’t trying their luck again are they? I’ve told you I’m not interested in that sort of thing.”

“Listen here, would I pester you like this if it was bloody QPR? I think this is something you’ll want to hear. Now, do you want me to tell you or not?”

“I’m sorry Dean, you’re right. Who is it?”

Dean took a deep breath, and then launched into the details. A Premier League club, with a manager moving on to bigger things at the end of the season, wanting me to take some time to bed in during the summer and then take things forward. They weren’t offering long-term security, but then nobody in the Premier League was. Nobody else in the Premier League was offering anything, full stop.

I paused. This was big, there was no question about it. The way Dean spoke about the opening - the club talking about a fresh approach ‘within the club’s philosophy’ smacked of a team that knew what it wanted, that had a real identity, and anyone who knew anything about the English leagues would be able to recognise. This was a huge opportunity, of that there was no doubt, and they had got their bid in early - they knew I would need time.

“I’m not going to lie Dean, I like the sound of it as a job offer. But I also like the sound of creating a dynasty here in Seattle, and you know as well as I do that it isn’t necessarily just down to me. Let me talk to Rachel, give me a few days, can they do that?”

“They’ve asked if you could get back to them after the Philly game, is that reasonable?”

We hosted the Union on May 6th, a full week from their initial advance. It sounded like they had their terms ready and sorted, and the fact I wouldn’t take official charge until the end of the month made it sound like they were not going to rush me.

They had covered everything, and I needed to talk my wife. Probably not just yet though.

[neilhoskins77]

Congratulations on another Champions League success? Which would say was more coveted, North America well ahead of schedule, or Asia under the constraints of working under McGregor? Intrigued to hear who the PL club are too. Good stuff ED.

[EvilDave]

On 4/26/2017 at 12:19, neilhoskins77 said:

Congratulations on another Champions League success? Which would say was more coveted, North America well ahead of schedule, or Asia under the constraints of working under McGregor? Intrigued to hear who the PL club are too. Good stuff ED.

Thanks Neil! I'd the Asian trophy was more satisfying just because of the restrictions - this Seattle side is pretty special whereas Adelaide were very much underdogs all the way. And we know all about the chairman...
--

The discussion with Rachel was not an easy one, and took plenty of time and several installments. There was interruption courtesy of the MLS fixture list once more - Bheka Sibandze’s late goal edging us past San Jose at home. By this point, we were reaching a conclusion, but were not quite there.

“I don’t think there is a best option darling, and that’s what I can’t get my head round,” said Rachel. “If there was right or wrong I could deal with that, but I can see the pros and cons of both choices.

“If Seattle offer you a new deal, we can draw a line under things, settle here for good, start thinking of the girls’ futures here in the States, drop anchor. If we go to England, we start all over again but in a system we know - Bethan starts secondary school after the summer, Becca isn’t too far behind, we go to a culture we know in a country we’re citizens of, and life gets a lot more normal after the initial shock.”

“So which one do we want? Do we want to stick with what we know, knowing it’ll never quite be home, or do we twist, turn everything upside down for a little while, and then hope home is how we remember it?”

“I wish it was that simple darling, don’t you? Once upon a time this would have been your decision alone, then it became our decision, and now there are four of us to consider. How on earth are the girls going to react if we tell them we’re moving - and not just to a different street?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think they’ll even be able to remember much of life in Prestatyn, and even if they can I’m not sure there are too many similarities. Bethan is mature for her age, I know that, but what does she know about what she’ll want to do and be in 10 days’ time, let alone 10 years?”

“Do you think we’d be there for 10 years?”

“I wouldn’t want to move again, not unless something dramatic happened. I’d like to think this is it - if they decide they don’t want me anymore, we’d just figure it out.”

“OK, so if this goes through it’s the last one. The girls might accept that, actually, thinking about friendships and security and just knowing where home is. I know this sounds like a crazy idea, but why don’t we talk to them about it?”

“In what terms?”

“Would they like to stay in America, or go back to the UK. Explain it isn’t Wales and will be different, but that we would be staying there for good and it would be a big change at first. Keep it in simple terms, don’t push them one way or another, listen to them.”

“You know what, I think that makes sense. Do you want me to ring Dean and find out if they said anything about arrangements for the kids?”

“If we’ve got the information, let’s have it.”

“Can you tell me something darling?”

“Of course.”

“What’s your gut reaction?”

“Go. You don’t get these opportunities more than once, your reputation is at an all-time high, I’ve got nothing to cling on to, and the girls will take it in their stride. It’s England as well - it’s not as if we’re moving to China.”

“OK. I’ll call Dean.”

[withnail316]

I'm going to have a stab at the PL club being Everton or Newcastle - big clubs, but clubs that can be built, rather than stepping in to a behemoth...

Looking forward to the next installment.

[EvilDave]

Thanks @withnail316 - you'll just have to wait and see whether or not your suspicions are correct!
--

Rebecca didn’t really know what to make of our suggestion. Her main concern was whether there would be any other girls her age in our proposed new home, and seemed happy enough when we explained she’d go to a new school with other children just like her.

Bethan was a little more reticent in coming forward with an opinion, but after asking several questions of me and Rachel, finally gave a response which melted my heart.

“Mummy, daddy, I don’t know. But thank you for listening. I trust you.”

Based on those interactions alone, it seemed our worries about the girls’ response was misguided. Perhaps more important to me had been Rachel’s gut reaction to go for it, to make the move, and to take the family with me. It hadn’t initially occurred to me, but we would also be an awful lot closer - although still by no means next door - to some of our friends from back in Prestatyn. Given that my wife had at times been lonely in the States, that in itself was a huge positive.

Finally, I had to consider my own career. As Rachel quite rightly pointed out, in the immediate aftermath of a second Champions League win I was riding the crest of a wave, and if teams were not taking notice at this point, they would be unlikely to do so in the future. Given that my previous interest had been from Derby, Wigan and QPR, this was a significant step up in calibre of club, and that could not be ignored.

In addition, the initial numbers that Dean had mentioned represented a huge financial jump from my current contract with the Sounders. Of course, everything was preliminary and there was every chance of my current side offering me a new deal, but even then they were unlikely to be able to match the guaranteed riches of the Premier League. Even if I only lasted six months, we’d be set up for years.

There was also the chance to take a promising young team - this was by no means a struggling club, but one whose manager had attracted enough attention to land another contract elsewhere - put my stamp on them and try and upset the established order in England. It was the ultimate test for any club manager, and one I felt ready for at this stage in my career.

The more I thought about it, the more I realised that the only thing stopping me from making the jump immediately was a sense of loyalty to Haneuer and the Sounders for rescuing me from the Adelaide debacle. Two questions then entered my mind - would they understand if I left midseason, and could I really let such a vague sentiment get in the way of what, by every other reasoning, seemed like the right move?

I wasn’t sure I could. So, I gave Dean the call. Ten minutes later, he called me back. Haneuer had convened the triumvirate, and they had given me the nod to open talks. They wanted to meet me in the morning, and the following day my agent had arranged a video conference with my suitors. If I was to agree a deal, I would have to do so without actually stepping foot in the stadium - everything was still very much under wraps at the moment - but with time in abundance before formally taking over, that could be arranged at a later date.

We were in business, and unless anything went wrong, I would be on the move. How quickly things move in the world of football management.

[EvilDave]

Perhaps understandably, my mind was elsewhere for the visit of Philadelphia. We were given a guard of honour as we entered the field, a nice touch from the Union players in recognition of our new-found status as continental champions, but that was where their charity ended, Fabian Castillo pouncing to put the visitors ahead with the first shot of the match after just three minutes.

The Union managed just four more shots for the rest of the 90 minutes, compared to 23 from my Sounders, who picked themselves up well after the early shock. Unfortunately, only one of that collection, a somewhat scuffed finish from Cho with 10 minutes to go, found the back of the net, and so we were forced to split the points.

Of more personal importance was the post-match press conference, when I announced my decision to the nation’s media. It was not the simplest of statements to make - I would be leaving the Sounders with a heavy heart, and my new club were adamant that things needed to be kept quiet - but I had been given the go-ahead to say something, and now was the time to do so.

“Ladies and gentleman of the press, I won’t keep you any longer than necessary. We were fought to a good draw today by Philadelphia, and I want to thank Jason Kreis and his team for a good game played in an excellent spirit.

“However, the main reason for my being here this evening is to inform you all that, as of the end of this month, I will no longer be managing the Seattle Sounders.”

Hands shot up for the assembled media - they had not seen it coming at all - but this was not the time for an open session. Sipping from my glass of water, I told them as much.

“Sorry, but the time for questions will come. At this moment I am unable to tell you where I will be managing from June, so I would appreciate your keeping speculation at a minimum. However, this is not a decision I have taken lightly.

“The Sounders have showed remarkable faith in me during my tenure, giving me a chance after a spell in Australia, and then maintaining their backing despite a difficult first season. In the last two and a half years, they have continued to support and encourage me through the good times and the bad, and I am pleased to have been able to deliver some memorable moments for this great club.

“A week or so ago, this team made history by winning the Champions League, and it is nothing less than the fans, the city and the owners deserve. I have been treated like part of the family since day one, my wife and children have felt part of the community in Seattle, and it will be with some sadness that we move on.

“I have no doubt that, whoever is chosen to take this club forward, they will continue to succeed in both the domestic and international game. The ownership has the best interests of the club at heart, the fans are superb, and the players are some of the best I have had the pleasure of working with - many of them will no doubt lead the United States proudly at the upcoming World Cup.

“Before then, I assure you all that I will not settle for anything less than 100 per cent from myself and my team. In no way will my departure affect our preparation and performance in the three upcoming matches, starting with Portland in a couple of days.

“Once again, I ask that you to respect the confidentiality of the process and do not speculate about either my next club, or the identity of my replacement here in Seattle. Ladies and gentlemen, that’s all I have to say today. Thank you for your time and your understanding, and have a safe journey home.”

[EvilDave]

My final away game in charge of the Sounders would come, naturally, at the home of our local rivals Portland. Had this been at home, our 4-3 win would have been a fitting end to my Seattle career, but at the home of the Timbers it went down as barely a footnote. In truth it was nowhere near as pulsating as the final scoreline suggests - we flew out of the blocks to a 3-0 lead within 25 minutes, conceded shortly after the break, restored the three-goal advantage through the returning Kalenga, and then shipped two more in the last five minutes to give our hosts something resembling respectability.

The day afterwards, the US national squad was named for the upcoming home World Cup, and there were no fewer than eight Sounders in the 23. Jon Shannon would play as one of the four strikers, while our entire defence and midfield - Santiago, Lawton, Perez, Robertson, Rodriguez, Cosgriff and Salcedo were all selected by manager Ben Olsen for the tournament, where a group of Gabon, Paraguay and Switzerland offered every chance of progress to the knockout rounds. As if to emphasise our quality, Cho and Sibandze were also called up by Korea and dark horses Belgium respectively.

That was the backdrop for a second meeting with Haneuer, Allen and Nordstrom in just a few days. The first had seen them unanimously and yet reluctantly approve my request to open talks with my next club, and me thank them for but ultimately reject the chance to discuss terms on a contract extension. This second get-together was at their request.

“Now then Owain, thank you for dropping in again. I know you don’t want to spend too much more of your time with us, but we wanted to ask you one simple question if that’s not too much trouble?”

Adrian had a twinkle in his eye as he spoke, with all three smiling. It was infectious, but it also made me a little nervous as they sat in front of me.

“Go ahead, no problem.”

“Well, we wanted to know whether you had any recommendations for your successor. You’ve managed in three different countries, you’ve been in the USA for three and a half years, you know the lie of the land. Are there any names you can think of?”

Succession planning. I should have known, but as it happened I did have one or two recommendations for them. I didn’t even need to hesitate.

“Jide could do it no problem - he knows the players, he knows what works, he’s seen my methods at close quarters. I’d have no qualms giving him the job.

“I’m not quite so certain about this one, but my instinct tells me Clint would be a good manager too. He loves this club, the fans love him, and his attention to detail is a very positive sign. With this squad, I wouldn’t be worried about his lack of experience.

“Of course, that leaves you without a front office chief, but the best in the business has been out of the game for 18 months and I suspect might be a lot more open now than he was the last time we saw him. I assume you still have Chris Henderson’s number.”

I didn’t know whether Chris was ready to get back into the game, but I knew I owed it to him to at least suggest it. As for one of Jide and Clint taking the helm, I saw the smiles of the face of the owners, and I knew they were already thinking of giving Dempsey his managerial debut. I had my suspicions Jide would be the stronger candidate, but if he stayed on as assistant then the Sounders would be fine.

“Thank you Owain. That’s everything we wanted. Is there anything we can do for you while you’re here?”

“Actually, there is if you don’t mind. Today is the 10th, and we don’t play again until Houston on the 18th. Do you have any objection to me travelling to England for two or three days?”

“Not at all Owain. Go, and go well.”

That was much easier than I had thought.

[EvilDave]

The trip back to England was not quite so straightforward. My new club were happy for me to visit the stadium - and indeed witness their last match of the season - but only in disguise, and my tour of the facilities would be carried out the next day as part of a fans’ tour of the stadium and training ground. I assured them I had told no-one outside of Dean, my family and the Seattle owners about the move, but they were not taking any chances at this point.

They had good reason to be cautious, as the outgoing manager - former Romanian international Dan Petrescu - was yet to publicly announce his own decision, that being to pack up his bags and leave for German outfit Leverkusen at the end of the season. His current side still had plenty to play for in their last few games, needing a win against Newcastle on the final day to be sure of Europa League football next season.

Watching from the stands and surrounded by fans of the crowds - many of whom were perfectly pleased with Petrescu’s work and showed no particular desire to see him leave - I was witness to a 1-1 draw with the Magpies, a penalty midway through second half not quite enough to claim the victory thanks to a late leveller from the side in black and white. Still, their frustration turned to relief at the final whistle - Arsenal had done them a huge favour by beating nearest rivals and the season’s surprise package Wolves, ensuring a spot in the European qualifying rounds. I would have continental football again in my new role.

Following the tour of the facilities - hastily done out of necessity, but hugely impressive - and Petrescu’s own announcement that he was leaving, I was finally able to talk contracts. Of course, even this could not be done on location, as that would cause too much consternation. No, instead I would combine my contract negotiations, which would take place the next morning, with a two-day rendezvous with the club’s scouting team in Central London, suitably far removed to remain covert.

The numbers on offer were very good. Very good indeed, and if Dean hadn’t briefed me beforehand I wouldn’t have believed them myself. The club were rightly erring on the side of caution, refusing to budge from an initial one-year deal, but were adamant that they had every faith in my ability and would review before Christmas. At £67,000 each and every week - roughly four times what I was currently making in Seattle - we’d already be millionaires by then even if we started from scratch. Throw in a £26 million transfer warchest and almost £200,000 per week in unused wages to play with, and I did not take much convincing. It was final - the Williams family was coming to England for the first time since Prestatyn’s last game against TNS.

As for the scouting team - three times the size of my team at Seattle at 21 - it was a most productive time. I knew where I wanted them to be looking and the sort of player I wanted, they knew where the holes were in the existing squad. I left to fly home knowing that the moment I officially became manager, I could starting making deals. I needed to hit the ground running, and the club appreciated that.

Finally, there was the housing issue, and my employers-to-be were well on the way with that too. Although the distance prevented me viewing the property in person, the 3D walkthrough video of a stunning five-bed family home just 20 minutes’ drive from the stadium and 15 from the training ground made it seem perfect, and when I shared the link with Rachel she was more than happy. It would not come cheap, but the club had it written into my deal that they would pay half up front and, assuming I stayed for at least two seasons, would then reimburse us and transfer ownership. We were satisfied with the arrangement, and were already mentally moving in.

In all honesty, I would happily have stayed in England and started work immediately were it not for the fact that Rachel and the girls were back in the States. They would move over with our belongings a week ahead of me to set up home and get things sorted with the girls’ new schools, and I would continue to liaise with the scouting team and backroom staff from Seattle as things wound down with the Sounders. I had two games to go, and then a new chapter to start.