[FM15] Kyle Cain's Flying Circus

[tenthreeleader]

Guy Barry had set a record.

 His goal made him the youngest goal scorer in club history, breaking a thirty-nine year old mark in the process. Somewhere, Jason Seacole was presumably tipping a glass to the fellow who had broken his record, as Barry was just over four years away from being legally able to do it himself.

 At age sixteen years, 303 days, Barry had something to remember.

 “Good win,” Kyle told the press, which seemed to outnumber the fans.  Barely fifty traveling fans had made the trip from Oxford to the south coast, so it wasn’t as though either team had been particularly well supported, which wasn’t a very good advertisement for the JPT.

 Eales had even told Kyle that if he lost, it wasn’t a big deal. Now that is a second-rate feeling.

 But Kyle was pleased. The win gave his squad players another opportunity to play, with Northampton the next drawn opponent in just over a month’s time at Sixfields.

 And Max Crocombe had sent a text, as a full international. He had played for his country, which had defeated Singapore 2-1, and was replying to his manager’s message of congratulations. It was a good day for a lot of people wearing blue and yellow.

 The big news on the Monday was a training protest by Wigan’s Brazilian winger Moreno, a 32-year old player who didn’t like the idea of being so far down the leagues, didn’t like Melky Mackay, and decided that a better way to spend his first day of the week would be to hit the shops instead of the training pitch.

 Mackay made that idea expensive for him, so the shopping trip wound up costing the player a week’s wages instead of just a few quid. Kyle had tried twice to lure the player to Oxford in the 2014-15 season but the player didn’t want to move south right at that moment.

 Now, though with Richards, Skarz and O’Dowda in the left side of midfield and at left back, there was no place for an older player, even if he was Brazilian. The scouts said Moreno was better suited to play wing back, a position which hardly existed in Kyle’s lexicon, and as such he went to Burton on a month’s loan shortly after getting his wallet trimmed by Mackay.

 The other item of note was Oxford falling out of the top spot in the table as Stevenage remained devilishly difficult to score against. They went to Colchester, where Oxford had drawn, and beat the recently relegated hosts by two goals to nil, vaulting the Us in the table and putting Oxford squarely behind the eight ball with a big match at Luton coming up.

 It would be a rematch of the playoff semifinal from last season and had a tinge of local rivalry in it as well, but the Hatters had gotten out of the gate very slowly in the new season, sitting in 22^nd place with only four points from five matches played.

 The Luton match would be the second away day on the spin for Oxford and Kyle didn’t mind that. It got him away from the mess his home life was becoming.

 He was thankful for Owen. The little guy was a delight and without doubt the only member of the Cain household who was entirely innocent. Being home with him made life palatable within his own four walls.

 That made him special to Kyle, who before the team boarded the coach for the brief trip to the east to Luton had taken an evening away from his videos and his team sheets and his training plans to take a nap with his son laying across his chest.

 Jenna had taken the obligatory picture – still close to her dad in spite of their recent differences, she thought it was a wonderful moment – and the picture was now the wallpaper on Kyle’s phone as the coach rolled into Luton on the M1 from the south.

 Kyle thought of the fun things about fatherhood – watching Jenna grow had been the highlight of his life and he was looking forward to watching Owen do the same – and since it appeared as though Allison would be unavailable to help him, he’d be doing it from the comforts of his own home.

 # # #

[mark wilson27]

Top of the table early on and now progressing in the JPT, its all looking good so far sir. Lets hope Kyle makes sure his side doesn't do a Liverpool and start suffering from vertigo 

[tenthreeleader]

Love the team, Mark. My preferred 4-1-3-2 tactic seems to suit it right down to the ground. For the second straight season, a loanee in central midfield is making an enormous difference. Last season Maddison, this season Rothwell.

___

5 Sep 2015 – Luton Town (1-1-3, 22^nd place) v Oxford United (4-1-0, 2^nd place)
Sky Bet League Two Match Day #6 - Kenilworth Road, Luton
Referee Lee Mason

 The playoff rematch was televised, so Kyle made sure that the color of his sling matched the blue in his track suit.

 His arm was mending fairly well according to his doctor, with only a few weeks of cast time remaining until he could regain the full use of both of his arms.

 It was a quite lovely late summer afternoon but not as warm as it had been so there wasn’t as much itching to deal with under Kyle’s cast. He appreciated that too.

 But for this match, Kyle was going to try something he had never thought he’d be able to attempt: after the Johnstone’s Paint Trophy win, he was going to change out all eleven of his starting players.

 Oxford United (4-1-3-2): Ashdown: Grandison, Wright, Dunkley, Skarz, Willock, MacDonald, Rothwell, O’Dowda, Gnanduillet, Hoban.

 Word had come to Kyle during the week that Gnanduillet didn’t like the idea of training with, or being mentored by, Hoskins. The two had similar personalities but on the pitch they just did not get along. That was unfortunate – especially since Hoskins was finding it hard to break into the regular XI due to his protégé’s strong play. The tutoring arrangement was working to the tutor’s disadvantage.

 The first half started slowly, which wasn’t surprising given the rivalry of the two clubs. Luton started with five at the back plus a holding midfielder in a 5-3-2 alignment which was designed to do one thing from the outset, and everyone knew what that thing was.

 But after fifteen minutes it turned into a steady procession of corners for the visitors, leading to decent scoring opportunities. O’Dowda, Gnanduillet and Hoban all came close, saved by Arran Lee-Barrett with efforts ranging from pedestrian to ‘how’d he do that?’.

 The possession stats were telling too, as part of a first half in which Oxford did everything but score.

 Andy Drury had the home team’s best chance of the first half, forcing Ashdown into a sharp save just a minute before the interval. That gave Kyle the chance to tell his team that he was hopeful of a result but that if they messed up they’d wind up getting beaten.

 It was a switch from the usual for Kyle, who, despite his usually salty personality was optimistic with his players. They seemed to react well to the realism his team talk displayed but it remained to be seen whether they would take it onto the pitch with them in the second half.

 Yet less than ten minutes after the restart, referee Lee Mason was pointing to the spot after Scott Griffiths bundled MacDonald to the floor just to the right of the same spot. The reactions were predictable on both sides, and so was the end result as O’Dowda sent Lee-Barrett the wrong way in the 54^th minute.

 The breakthrough achieved, Kyle set his team to wait for the riposte he expected. Their play deserved the lead, but Luton’s equalizer was just as well deserved as Olukorede Aiyegbusi worked past both O’Dowda and Skarz, pulled the ball to his left foot and beat Ashdown to his right post along the floor from twenty yards right on the hour mark.

 Sometimes the other guy just makes a good play. Kyle didn’t have to like it, but in this case it was certainly true. The match was level again, Luton went back to five men at the back and the Us had to start over again.

 While playing like the better side, Oxford wasn’t as sharp as they had been in recent matches, part of which was understandable due to the purple patch they had enjoyed. Yet settling for a draw was disappointing to Kyle and as the match pushed past 80 minutes he pulled Gnanduillet for Hoskins, the significance of which was not lost on either player.

 The idea was to spark the team and it certainly did that, with Hoskins flicking on O’Dowda’s cross from the left five minutes from time. His arcing pass sailed over the flailing Abdoulaye Faye in the area and onto the boot of Hoban, and League Two’s leading marksman did not miss.

 It was a late show, but one which Oxford deserved.

Luton Town 1 (Olukorede Aiyegbusi 60)
Oxford United 2 (O’Dowda pen 54, Hoban 86)
H/T: 0-0
A – 7,997, Kenilworth Road, Luton
Man of the Match: Joe Rothwell, Oxford United (MR 8.4)

Note: This match wins me the "Squad Depth" Steam achievement, winning two consecutive matches fielding an entirely different starting lineup in each. First time for everything!

 # # #

[tenthreeleader]

“You do know you aren’t supposed to change a winning eleven.”

 

Churchill’s remark, which stopped just short of snark, bounced off Kyle like a meatball thrown against a suit of plate armor.  Kyle was very well pleased at a road win against a local rival with a completely changed-out squad.

 

“We do have a bit of depth for a club at our level,” he replied. “Players want to play and there are times when it’s ‘next man up’. This was one of those times. Unless you’d rather see us leave a Cup competition and give you something extra to write about.”

 

“I didn’t mean it that way, Kyle,” the reporter replied.

 

“That’s not how I took it,” the manager answered. “Next question.”

 

Kyle’s confidence, along with that of his team, was high. The team was still unbeaten in League Two and was one of a shrinking number of such teams not only in the Football League but in all of England and that was a source of considerable pride. That allowed him to pin back the ears of one of the local paper’s two United beat reporters.

 

He suspected that someday, though, the shoe might be on the other foot.

 

Bill Churchill’s article about the state of the Cain family the season before had caused quite a bit of heartache, not only for Kyle but for his entire family. It had obviously been highly personal and, to some, out of bounds in terms of conduct.

 

But he had said what he had said, and it couldn’t be changed. The club’s protests had fallen on deaf ears at the paper, so Churchill was still traveling on days that Vic Young didn’t, and Kyle’s face could be read like a kind of hall barometer depending on which reporter was covering the team.

 

As the players left the stadium and boarded the coach for the short trip home, Kyle got another jolt.

 

He saw Allison boarding a fan bus back for Oxford with her new boyfriend, the ubiquitous “Will”, seemingly attempting to fold her into his back pocket as he did.

 

“Sure likes her,” Kyle mused to himself as he caught Allison’s eye. She turned away quickly, reached for her boyfriend’s hand, and got onto their coach.

 

“But then, I do too,” he added. He got onto the team coach and took his customary seat in the front row opposite the driver, for the short trip home.

 

As he settled in, plugging in headphones to listen to his music, he got a text message.

 

“You’re giving me plenty to sell. Good job!”

 

It was from Diana Moore, and Kyle frowned.

 

“What’s the catch here?” he thought to himself. His sworn enemy was being nice?

 

All of a sudden?

 

That made no sense at all, and that was obvious. Eales had told the marketer to trim her sails after some board-room dustups the season before and she had chosen to do that through silence rather than through actually being, you know, civil.

 

This was odd.

 

This was different.

 

# # #

[tenthreeleader]

Looking at the papers that week, Kyle could only remark that sometimes the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Mansfield Town keeper David James – yes, that David James – was the keeper in the League Two Team of the Week.

Now 45 years old, James had been lured away from his position as player-manager at Kerala (that’s in India, we’ll save you the trouble) and been signed by the Stags on a free during the recent close season.

Now in his 25^th season of professional football, which began in 1990 with Watford, James found himself as the first-choice keeper with a Football League team. Swiss understudy Sascha Studer, young enough to be James’ son, was watching and learning while the former Manchester City man took the majority of the games.

“Maybe Mansfield is on the Senior Football Tour,” Kyle cracked before watching video, but stopped smiling when he saw the quality of a few of the saves James had made to earn the three points for his team in a 3-1 victory over York.

“I didn’t think people could bend that way,” Kyle marveled as he watched the keeper who was older than Kyle himself reacting to tip Wes Fletcher’s shot over the bar. “We need to be sure we keep him moving.”

Shortly afterward, one of Oxford’s young players encountered still another setback, making Kyle wonder whether having older players wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Josh Ashby, still searching for fitness from two injuries at the start of the season, fell hard on his right elbow in a u-21 match against Barnsley. Oxford won 4-3, which was nice, but it was another two weeks on the shelf for Ashby, which was not.  Three injuries in seven weeks for such a potentially important part of the team was hard to take.

So was watching Stevenage, the polar opposite of Kyle’s team in their approach to the game. While Oxford led the whole of the Football League in scoring, Borough had only conceded twice in their first six games and were right behind the Us in the table.

Facing Dag and Red, a team they would be favored to beat, at home, Kyle knew his men would need a special effort against Mansfield.

The players didn’t seem to think so, though, given their recent successes, and the week of training was not good as a result.

Overconfidence was a real worry, and it was a real challenge for Kyle and Fazackerley to keep expectations in line with work ethic.

To make matters worse, Owen had been sick with the first illness of his life, and the resulting overnights during Mansfield week meant Kyle was short on sleep. Stacy was too, but it seemed to Kyle that he was doing most of the 3am work with the little guy.

Not that he minded. Kyle seemed to bond immediately with his son, and that annoyed Stacy even while it pleased Kyle.

But it still wasn’t the best way for Kyle himself to prepare for the match.

Even Moore was still puzzling. She was bordering on kind.

So finally, Kyle couldn’t resist. After a smile and a cheery ‘hello’ in the hallway the Thursday before the home game, he stopped Moore in the hallway.

“Whatever happened between us in the past, I just wanted you to know that I really enjoy being pleasant with you,” he said. He stopped just short of asking her what had changed – even Kyle, with his checkered past with women, wasn’t that stupid – and instead of the inevitable riposte from his longtime rival, she simply smiled.

“There’s nothing wrong with a little kindness, Kyle,” she said. “Surely you can see that.”

“Of course I can,” he replied. “But excuse me for saying that this is unexpected.”

She walked down the hall and headed into her office.

“You’ll find that I’m full of surprises, Kyle,” she said cheerily, closing the door behind her.

# # #

[tenthreeleader]

12 September 2015 – Oxford United (5-1-0, 1^st place) v Mansfield Town (2-1-3, 13^th place)

Sky Bet League Two Match Day #7 – Kassam Stadium, Oxford

Referee: James Adcock

 

One could have excused James Adcock for feeling a bit of nervousness.

 

The referee for the match was working his first contest of the season and when he met Kyle and Mansfield manager Adam Murray in the players’ tunnel to finalize the team sheets before the match, he looked positively giddy.

 

There was reason for Kyle to smile too. Managing the first-place club, at home against a mid-table team, his lads were expected to win and win fairly well.

 

This time there weren’t eleven changes in the lineup, but with MacDonald still having a difficult time finding full fitness for some unknown reason, Hylton deputized for him, switching places with O’Dowda, usually the left-sided midfielder who could actually play either side.

 

Oxford started reasonably well but found application lacking when the ball was in the attacking third – which was often. Hoban, who had had such success earlier in the month, now seemed to be a spent force, missing two sitters within the first twenty minutes that had James, and Mansfield, breathing a collective sigh of relief.

 

At the half hour mark, though, things got bad for Oxford in general and Matty Willock in particular. The holding midfielder went down under a heavy challenge from Michael Doyle and landed, very awkwardly, on his right arm, which he used to try to break his fall.

 

He rolled to his back, holding the arm close to his body and it didn’t look good. After a quick look, the physios gently led him off the pitch.

 

“Surely broken, Kyle,” was the verdict, and Kyle, who was an authority on that particular subject, could only nod his head in agreement. Willock had been playing decently enough but he was the clear first choice at the holding position and as such, his loss meant quite a bit.

 

Meades, who wanted more playing time anyway, was sent on in his stead and play resumed with Oxford’s players who had seen the fall now trying to shake a rather gruesome memory out of their minds.

 

Hylton helped them do it with a smartly taken goal nine minutes before the interval. Hoban actually did almost all the work – latching onto a loose ball down the left wing, Hoban raced fully sixty yards with the ball at his feet before crossing to Hylton, who had run an equal distance down the left-hand channel, finishing from a sharp angle past James to get the home team onto the scoreboard.

 

That was enough to stay Kyle’s hand for a time, even though the team wasn’t playing especially well – or at least not as well as it was capable of playing.

 

Murray moved to a second striker as the second half began, changing from the 4-2-3-1 the Stags had used at the start of the match. Immediately, they looked more dangerous in attack and Kyle thought seriously about adopting Mansfield’s initial alignment for his own team, since the usual Oxford United flowing style of attack seemed to have remained in the boot room that day.

 

The chances began to come – for the visitors. Reggie Lambe, Matty Blair and then Chris Clements all tested Clarke, getting a league start for his good work in the JPT, but the veteran keeper had all the answers.

 

But he could not solve former Falkirk man Rakish Bingham, who squirmed between Dunkley and Wright to find just enough room to turn in Doyle’s square ball on seventy minutes.

 

It wasn’t a good goal to concede for a variety of reasons, but Mansfield’s play in the second half showed they surely deserved their equalizer. Kyle could have no real complaints.

 

Neither could his team, which soon found itself on the back foot as Doyle bossed the midfield, and veteran Kevin Nicholson, who had played for Kyle at Torquay and not always seen eye-to-eye with his boss, came on as a substitute and ruled the back line with an iron fist.

 

Meanwhile, the introduction first of Gnanduillet and the MacDonald for the ineffective Will Hoskins and the nearly inert O’Dowda respectively, did no good.

 

It was a split in the points and it was entirely deserved.

 

Oxford United 1 (Danny Hylton 36)

Mansfield Town 1 (Rakish Bingham 70)
H/T: 1-0

A – 7,588, The Kassam Stadium, Oxford

Man of the Match: Michael Doyle, Mansfield Town (MR 8.0)

 

# # #

[tenthreeleader]

The post-match meeting wasn’t any more pleasant despite Vic Young’s presence.

“Six to eight weeks for Willock,” Kyle said. “He just fell wrong.”

“There’s a way to fall right?” Vic asked.

“Yes, there is,” Kyle said. “And that wasn’t it.”

The bigger news was that Oxford was now in second place, as Stevenage had defeated a ten-man Dag and Red by a goal to nil at home. Their fine defensive record was virtually intact and as a result, the Us were no longer in pole position.

It was hard to find fault with how the Us were performing, especially since they were still unbeaten, but splitting the points against a beatable opponent rankled with Kyle as he prepared to head home.

His phone buzzed with consecutive texts. The first was from Eales, thanking him for the point in the standings even as he wondered what had happened on the pitch, and the second was from that woman.

No, not Stacy, or even Allison.

“Lots of season left,” she texted. “Pick the lads up and get them next week.”

Shaking his head, Kyle put his phone into his pocket and got into his car. What was she trying to pull?

He had a lot on his mind. It was not a good time for Kyle, and neither was it a good time to approach him.

Naturally, as he arrived at home, that’s exactly what Stacy did.

“I wanted you to know that Boyd has been in touch with me,” she said. “Since I know you’re a snoop anyway, you’d surely find out. Do whatever you want.”

“That would depend on what he said,” Kyle responded, trying to keep himself calm. He had given up quite a bit in order to take Stacy back, including give up on someone he truly wanted to be around if his situation were different – and now it was too late for that.

“He wanted to know how I was doing,” she said. “Typical things that people say to each other, but which you never seemed to say to me back in the day.”

“Don’t even start,” Kyle warned. “I don’t need any bloody Captain Overstatement jumping my s**t this evening. So just don’t go there.”

She was goading him. Kyle knew it. She had something up her sleeve, and the fact that she was holding Owen as she spoke to him showed that she knew it too.

Kyle felt like he was being held hostage to his own son and that was a dreadful feeling. He couldn’t go forward, couldn’t go back, and Stacy was twisting the knife.

He knew one thing for certain: revenge was certainly something Stacy enjoyed.

# # #

[tenthreeleader]

He didn’t have a lot of time to brood over the latest – Stacy had gone to bed right after the latest incident just like nothing had happened – and Kyle went to work the next day trying to figure out how to get three points from Cambridge three days hence.

 

He was doing it as manager of a second-placed team, but that was still in the promotion places so he knew he’d have no worries, serious or otherwise, when he reported to the training ground the next morning. Those players who had gone ninety minutes the day before naturally got the day off, but there were a few things Kyle wanted to see from those who hadn’t played.

 

One of the things he wanted to see was some sort of acknowledgment from those who hadn’t played that there were still places potentially to be earned. He wanted a reaction from those Us who had drawn the short straw against Mansfield.

 

One of those players was Ashdown, rested in favor of Clarke, who had played acceptably well but not exactly brilliantly, and another was Dunkley, rested for Andrew Whing. MacDonald was another player Kyle wanted to see more application from in training – not having hit anything like his form of a season ago, he had given way to Hylton for the Stags match.

 

Some of the changes had been driven by fixture congestion, but all three players were also under the microscope, and all three gave a satisfactory reaction as they trained. Kyle didn’t fail to notice it.

 

Cambridge was going to be a stern test too – they were in sixth place and playing at home, so Kyle saw the opportunity to reinforce a few home truths with his team while trying to keep the unbeaten run going.

 

The mood at training was good as well – professional and serious. Some teams don’t mind dropping points and under the right circumstances, such as with a large clearance over a trailing team, it could even be explained. But this wasn’t one of those times.

 

After training, Kyle headed to the therapist to get his arm looked at, and was told that the healing process was progressing quite satisfactorily indeed. He was only a couple of weeks away from getting out of that damned cast, which was causing quite a bit of itching underneath it.

 

Enquiries had been made about the cause of Kyle’s accident, with carelessness on the part of the other driver being a key finding in the police’s deliberations.

 

The other car had run a red light, so that finding was no great surprise, but Kyle’s official exoneration wasn’t all that long in coming.

 

Stacy had been pleased on the outside, but her communication with her old friend Boyd indicated that at least one of them felt otherwise on the inside.

 

“Maybe he should have been going a little faster,” Boyd joked by instant message.

 

“Who?” Stacy had replied.

 

“Both of them,” was the librarian’s answer.

 

“I told you once not to do that,” Stacy replied.

 

“Why? Because you don’t like it, or because it’s true?”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

# # #

[tenthreeleader]

15 September 2016 - Cambridge United (4-0-3, 6^th place) v Oxford United (6-1-0, 2^nd place)
Sky Bet League Two Match Day #8 - The Abbey Stadium, Cambridge
Referee: Michael Naylor

 Kyle could have used a swill or two of the product sponsoring The Abbey Ground’s South Stand, into which the Oxford fans filed during warm-ups.

 Marston’s Smooth was a half-decent bitter and Kyle was a bit on the thirsty side on a warm, sunny late summer evening. His players looked up for the challenge, though, trying to keep that unbeaten run going.

 But at the beginning of the match, Oxford was slow and sluggish, and was punished for it within the first quarter-hour. Jordan Slew slipped between Wright and Dunkley right in the middle of the penalty area, took a pass from Gearóid Morrissey and gave Ashdown no chance.

 Wright’s protestations of offside rightly fell on deaf ears, with the captain really more interested in covering his malfeasance than he had been in marking the goal scorer.

 “That…was bad,” Kyle mused, leaning back in his chair while the smallish crowd at the Abbey Stadium cheered mightily. That Marston’s Smooth was starting to look better and better to him.

 But nine minutes later, Wright had made amends, with one of the longer headed goals you’ll see. It came directly off a corner, but the central defender made contact with the ball right near the penalty spot, guiding it into the lower left corner of Will Norris’s goal.

 Nobody, least of all Wright himself, could figure out how he had steered that header through half a dozen players, including Norris, and home, but it hardly mattered. His earlier error had been erased and Oxford was level.

 Fazackerley, in his usual position immediately to Kyle’s left on the bench, couldn’t resist a smirk.

 “Nice and easy, Kyle,” the older man advised. “It’ll come good.”

 How his deputy could keep reading his mind, Kyle could never seem to understand. Yet it had happened again. The equalizer safely on the scoreboard, the manager was now wondering whether his team would have what it took to find a second. Despite the score, the first half hour hadn’t been particularly kind to his team.

 That kind of doubt was comparatively rare with the Flying Circus, but Kyle had it anyway on that afternoon. The way things had been going, he couldn’t avoid the thought that it had all been too good.

 Halftime approached and the smallish Cambridge crowd applauded the home team off the pitch as the scoreline remained deadlocked.

 Particularly distressing was the comparative ease with which Cambridge found decent scoring opportunities. Ashdown had been as good as he could have been, having had no chance on Slew’s goal, but Kyle’s urgings at halftime were more defensive-related than attack-related.

 “They’ll find ways to get forward, they always do,” he told Fazackerley on the walk back to the dugout for the second half. “But tonight, for some reason, I don’t have a good feeling.”

 Fazackerley nodded. He had seen these types of reactions from Kyle before, and wondered why the team hadn’t, for some reason, picked up on the vibes the manager was giving.

 “You can’t let the team know that,” he reminded Kyle, and the Oxford United manager simply closed his eyes as he sat down in his chair.

 “I know, Derek, I know,” he said, as Oxford kicked off to start the second half. Immediately, they conceded a corner which had Kyle sitting back in his chair. His men cleared their lines, however, and play resumed. Wright ran over Slew trying to gain position for a header and gave up a juicy set piece about twenty-five yards from goal, with central defender Fraser Franks for some reason selected to take it. Ashdown licked his chops, easily collected, and the crisis was averted.

 Then it was Josh Harrop, playing a comparatively strong game in midfield, forcing Norris into a decent save nine minutes into the second half. It was Oxford’s first move forward of the session with another one coming a few moments later as Hoban hit a drive that had the general arc not unlike the curve of a banana. Norris collected and so it went on.

 Just then Whing took a kick to the calf and looked like he would have to play at half speed. For Whing, that was half of not much, so Kyle reluctantly went to his bench for Grandison, who he had been trying to rest. Dunkley, who had started at right back, moved to his customary place in the middle and the game resumed.

 Dunkley liked the middle. So much so, in fact, that he took his position next to the keeper on an Oxford corner and swept home MacDonald’s rebound in 64 minutes. With goals from both central defenders, Oxford led.

 Both goals had come off defensive disorganization from a set piece, which had Kyle smiling, U’s manager John Owens annoyed almost beyond reason, and, half an hour later, Oxford heading home with three points their play had more or less deserved.

Cambridge United 1 (Jordan Slew 11)
Oxford United 2 (Wright 20, Dunkley 64)
H/T: 1-1
A – 2,879, The Abbey Stadium, Cambridge
Man of the Match: Josh Harrop, Oxford United (MR 8.1)

 # # #

[tenthreeleader]

“We’re back top of the table, if that means anything to you,” Kyle told the press after the match, and indeed, Oxford was.

 

Ten-man Stevenage had conceded a goal, which was news enough, and it was all Morecambe needed to claim a one-nil victory which dropped Borough a point behind Oxford in the table. Burton, for all its talent, was behind Oxford as well and Kyle could only note that there was no accounting for that sort of thing. You still had to get the results, and Albion hadn’t.

 

“We weren’t so good against Mansfield, I didn’t think, but we came back and did what we needed to do today,” he said. “We’ll take it, obviously.”

 

“You needed nowt but your central defenders,” a man in the back of the room said. His accent didn’t indicate he was from around these parts – Kyle placed the accent as something Yorkshireish – but it hardly mattered.

 

“Aye,” Kyle responded in a sort of salute to the man, a grin spreading across his face. “Hoban can’t score them all, I guess. We do have a couple of lads back there who like to get forward and help out.”

 

“Dunkley looked like a different player. What did you tell him?” Churchill asked.

 

“That he was capable of better than he was showing,” Kyle answered. “Dunks has come a long way in the last twelve months but if he wants to get where his talent can take him, that’s the kind of game he needs to bring each week. When he does that he’s going to be a complete player in this league.”

 

“Your captain took a moment or two off in that first half, but is he in your good books now?” Churchill asked, to Kyle’s chagrin. Wright’s switching off allowed Slew’s goal to happen but he made up for it a few minutes later.

 

“Let’s just say the goal worked out well for him,” Kyle said, without quite as wide a smile. Wright’s switch-on, switch-off mentality had come to the fore in recent weeks and for the manager, it was something that needed correcting soon. This was one way to start the process.

 

He had never been one to call out his players in the press, but quietly the fellow who had completely lost the plot at Torquay was gaining a reputation on the training ground as a no-nonsense boss. Winning a ton of matches in a row will allow such opinions to gain traction.

 

The pleasantries completed, Kyle headed back to his team’s changing room to supervise the coach load-up for the trip home. He checked his text messages – none from Allison, which both didn’t surprise Kyle and made him a bit wistful – and finally took his seat in the front row on the side opposite the driver for the voyage back to Oxford.

 

Another day, another dollar, the Americans would say – a day well spent.

 

# # #

[tenthreeleader]

After a Sunday off, the team was right back at training on Monday to prepare for a home match against Hartlepool, a team virtually everyone felt should have been doing better than it actually was.

 

United stood 19^th in the table with only two wins from their first eight matches – out of the drop zone but not by much. It was the place in the table that made managers’ hair stand on end – not fatal but far from comfortable. The ground under foot starts to turn from dirt to eggshells for managers in places like 19^th. It was not a fun place to be.

 

The problem was, this was the time of year when people really started to notice underperforming teams and their managers. It was one reason why a good start was so vital to Kyle – the strong finish to last season meant nothing now, and he knew it. A difficult start to the season could have put him under threat even with the increased bank balances making life easier for everyone else at the club.

 

But for Kyle Cain, professional life was pretty darned good. The team was still unbeaten in eight matches and the place his team occupied – first – was the place everyone else wanted. There was an element of satisfaction to watching Sky Sports News in the morning and on the rotating list of league tables, to see his club topping League Two, repeating every couple of minutes.

 

It felt nice. Kyle felt he had earned those few moments of satisfaction.

 

And on the training ground, the players felt it too. In fact, they might have been feeling it a bit too much. Keeping the players active, on task and on point was getting harder and harder each day. That is the down side of a long unbeaten streak.

 

Players were loose. That was good. They were also starting to get cocky. That wasn’t so good.

 

Gnanduillet was one in the latter group. The former Chesterfield man had enjoyed a splendid start to the season but his training relationship with Hoskins, assigned to tutor him, was starting to sour a bit. That was for two reasons: first, Hoskins’ pupil had supplanted him as first choice most weekends, and second, the Ivorian’s own natural confidence was starting to put him at odds with others in the room.

 

That wasn’t good. When at his best, the 6’4” targetman was a real load. He could lay off a ball, hold it up, or take it to goal with about equal levels of skill and he seemed to have an unusually good understanding with Hoban, one reason that player was leading League Two in goalscoring.

 

But on a winning team, those types of personal issues are sometimes papered over – by everyone except the coaches who are paid to notice such things. Kyle had a quiet word with Gnanduillet after the Monday training session, and for his part, the big man seemed to take things fairly well. Or, at least Kyle hoped.

 

With that, the manager headed back to his office to watch video of Hartlepool and see what everyone else had already seen – a backline that was really not very much fun to watch from their own coaches’ standpoint, and which looked like fun to play against to virtually every opposing forward.

 

The opportunity was there for a cricket score if Oxford played its usual flowing offensive game and Kyle was happy to write down what he saw in his folio book. Direct play could do in Hartlepool nicely, and the big fellow who had been the subject of Kyle’s man management talk was a big part of any such plan.

 

Fazackerley and the coaches joined Kyle for the second half of his video session and the end result was a good staff meeting at which opinions were given and taken, the mood was light and quite a bit of match preparation was done in advance of the scouting report given to the players.

 

The meeting lasted two hours and everyone missed lunch. So one by one, the coaches headed to the commissary for some late afternoon sandwiches and refreshment. Kyle compiled his notes and entered them into a laptop computer.

 

He looked up to see Eales staring at him from the opposite side of his desk, which was a bit startling and also unusual, since the chairman rarely set foot in the playing side of the operation unless he had good reason.

 

“No worries, Kyle, everything’s fine,” the boss said as he helped himself to the large easy chair by the large-screen television on the right wall of the office. “Just stopped by for a visit.”

 

“That’s good of you,” Kyle said with a smile, as he saved the file he had created and gave his full attention to his boss. “What brings you to our end of the building?”

 

“I wanted to thank you for whatever it is you did that got Diana onside,” he said. “I know you two have had your differences and whatever happened between you two, it’s definitely good for the whole front office.”

 

Kyle frowned. “I didn’t really do anything,” he said. “We started to win a few matches from the start of the season and all of a sudden she’s being kind and nice and everything you would want a co-worker to be. If anything, she did it.”

 

“You mean you didn’t…” Eales gave Kyle a confused expression.

 

“Believe me, I’d love to take credit for it,” Kyle answered. “Who wouldn’t? I’ve just tried to stay out of her way. She was the one who made the complaint against me. I’ve had nothing to do with her.”

 

The chairman frowned and finally rose from his chair.

 

“I see,” he said, an opinion evidently formed in his mind. “Well, then please pardon the intrusion, Kyle. Good luck this weekend.”

 

With that, he left the room and Kyle wondered if he had said the wrong thing.

 

# # #

[tenthreeleader]

Pretty young things were dancing the night away at the Park End, one of the few night spots in Oxford that wasn’t completely overrun by college-age kids.

 The online review had said “there isn’t usually too much aggro here either” so that meant it was the place for Kyle. It was also the place for Jenna and Miles, as the three decided to go out for an evening on the town before the home match.

 Jenna wasn’t supposed to be drinking, and neither was Miles for that matter, so Kyle took charge of monitoring that little issue on the part of the kids. Miles was still on the fringes of Johnson Hippolyte’s first team for City and to his credit, he was getting his head down in training and genuinely trying to improve. The same things that had seen his contract with United allowed to expire – a lack of attention to detail in his third being primary among them – were hindering him at City as well.

 Kyle listened to Miles detailing his defensive woes and offered some advice as he looked over the top of a rather delicious Shotover Trinity, watching the couples on the floor.

 That wasn’t always easy to do. Once he had been like they were, but when he was their age he shouldn’t have been that way. The times were good until they turned disastrous.

 It hurt even more to watch when Allison walked in with Will and the two of them headed to a corner table. They hadn’t texted for a couple of weeks – which was understandable given their situations – but Kyle mused that whatever-his-name was could still communicate with Stacy whenever he wished. It wasn’t fair. But then, life wasn’t fair either. In Kyle’s case, he allowed it to be unfair, and he knew it.

 The two talked like people do who are falling in love. They sat far apart at first, and moved closer and closer together as they talked until finally they seemed only inches apart from nose to nose.

 Then Allison looked across the room and saw Kyle. She blushed a bright red and dropped her eyes quickly. When she raised her head again, Kyle raised his glass to her – and downed it at one go.

 Jenna noticed. “Dad, did you get thirsty all of a sudden?” she asked.

 “You might say that,” Kyle answered, raising his good arm to get the waiter’s attention. It was time for another round. It was more like “hungry”, but to Kyle it was only a matter of words.

 “I saw her come in, Kyle,” Miles offered. “You’re doing the right thing. Don’t forget that.”

 At first Kyle wanted to glare at the young man but thought better of it. Kyle knew it. That didn’t make it fun, necessarily, but he couldn’t deny that Miles had the right of it.

 They got up to dance and Kyle turned his attention to Jenna.

 “And how are you feeling this evening?” he asked her, to a pleased expression from his daughter.

 “I’m doing well,” she replied. “Miles made his appointment to pick me up to see the doctor today so I’m very pleased.” Her voice was teasing and her expression to the young man was one of happiness.

 “Well, I wasn’t going to miss another one,” he said, trying and failing to suppress a sheepish grin.

 Young people, Kyle thought. Maybe someday I’ll get that feeling back.

 Finally Jenna and Miles got up for a slow dance, leaving Kyle sitting alone at his table with his drink. Miles had driven, which was galling at first but which now worked out well for Kyle since it meant he didn’t have to watch his intake so carefully.

 They looked good together. And, he had to admit, so did Allison and Will.

 As much as he hated to admit it, if he was being honest with himself.

 He finished his second drink and the procession of new entrants to the club grew some more as a contigent from the club’s front office entered by the main door, with a few of his players right behind. Their initial apprehension at seeing the boss in the nightclub quickly gave way to relief when they saw that he was drinking too.

 Andrew Whing, club legend and erstwhile loan target by Ebbsfleet Town, was the first through the door, followed by the whiz kid Josh Ashby, who was barely old enough to drink so he was one for the manager to watch.

 Rothwell and Hoban were next, so four first-team players looked to be out for a night on the town including Kyle’s best midfielder and League Two’s leading marksman.

 “When these guys drink, they don’t kid around,” Kyle mused, as a wave of team staff entered one at a time and headed to a large table in the back. It was starting to seem like old home week.

 One of those in that third wave was Moore, who was in the company of one of the club’s PR staff, a thirtysomething fellow called Kevin Rowe. Kyle hadn’t had much interaction with him, but that was all right. Moore’s behavior was starting to make Kyle uncomfortable anyway.

 He continued to watch people dance and finally looked at his watch. All the fun had gone out of his evening and it was only 8pm.

 Kyle finished his drink and looked up to find Diana Moore standing over him, hand extended.

 “Come on, Kyle, it won’t hurt to have a dance,” she said. “Will it?”

 # # #

[tenthreeleader]

It was embarrassing as hell, but with a pronounced look at Jenna, making sure he made eye contact with her, they went to the dance floor.

 

Her look of amazement matched Kyle’s, and Moore couldn’t help but notice.

 

“Don’t worry, Kyle, it’ll be all right,” she said, as they swayed to a slower song. That was all Kyle was capable of doing on the dance floor and anyone who knew him knew that full well.

 

One by one, his players shared the same look of amazement as the two had a long-overdue conversation.

 

“Maybe it’s just time to let bygones be bygones,” she suggested. “I know you aren’t sure how to handle this but I’ve been thinking about how you tried to make amends to me after my dad died. It was nice of you and I wasn’t nice to you in reply.”

 

Kyle’s head began to spin. This was a woman who had actively tried to get him fired, now asking for a public dance so she could turn her ship around, so to speak. He couldn’t figure it out.

 

But then she showed her earnestness. “Your wife contacted me,” she said, and Kyle was shocked but not surprised. So far, it had been one hell of an evening.

 

“About six weeks ago,” she continued, answering Kyle’s unasked question. “She was looking for details on how you spend your time, and of course she knows about Allison.”

 

“Yes, she does, because I told her, and she also knows that there’s nothing going on with her,” Kyle said, suddenly growing irritated with a conversation very much forced upon him.

 

“Now, before you get mad, I wanted you to know she had done this, before you found out. Surely you would have, and I don’t see any reason for us to have another pointless fight.”

 

“Then that’s very decent of you,” Kyle replied.

 

She smiled at him. There didn’t seem to be any guile in it, which further surprised Kyle. So he decided to take a chance.

 

“What did you tell her? About how I spend my time, that is? If you don’t mind my asking.”

 

“I told her that you are the picture of dedication on and off the pitch,” she said. “Seriously. Before you say anything.”

 

Kyle couldn’t help but laugh. “And how did she respond to that?”

 

“Like she was disappointed.”

 

“That does sound like Stacy, sadly,” Kyle replied, a touch of wistfulness in his voice.

 

“Well, to be fair, it’s easy to understand why she asked,” Moore continued, to Kyle’s dismay.

 

“I tried to live that down,” he started, but the team’s marketer simply shook her head.

 

“Don’t be defensive,” she said. “I know. My sister told me. But I was surprised at how angry Stacy was when she talked with me.”

 

That gave Kyle a start, for more than one reason. First, he was speaking with a woman who had raised the term “unreasonable anger” to an art form just a few months before. Then, there was the obvious reason.

 

“I had a relationship with your sister,” he said. “That made you very angry. So why in the name of all that’s holy are you here on this dance floor with me now?”

 

“Charlotte forgave you,” Diana Moore said. “She moved on with her life, she got married and she is a very happy person now. I was upset that she had to go through the problems associated with making a bad decision. I’m here because I needed to forgive you too.”

 

That was odd to Kyle. It was understanding. It was acceptance. It was all the things he wasn’t used to receiving from the fairer sex.

 

“Allison moved on from you, look at her,” Diana said, tossing her head in the general direction of the corner table. “She’s happy. Time for you to be happy too.”

 

It all made no sense, until Diana Moore spoke again.

 

“And maybe you just picked the wrong sister,” she said.

 

# # #

[gaz_man]

Wow. I think the only appropriate response to that is holy crap. Gotta wonder though is she being genuine or is this another longer game to get at kyle?

[salkster2102]

Aren't you accustomed to 10-3's wicked use of suspense

Great stuff as always old buddy

[gibbo11]

Most of me thinks it's about revenge, but part of me hopes it isn't  

[JayR2003]

I echo everyone else but I would have chosen a stronger word than "crap" very WWE-crowd chant style...

[tenthreeleader]

Surprise!

___

19 September 2015 – Oxford United (6-2-0, 1^st place) v Hartlepool United (2-2-4, 19^th place)

Sky Bet League Two Match Day #9 – Kassam Stadium, Oxford

Referee: Scott Mathieson

 

Kyle told Stacy about what happened at the club. He had no choice.

 

Well, he hadn’t told her about Moore’s last sentence, because who wants scars all over their body? The discussion they had was bad enough – but when Kyle mentioned that he knew the two women had been talking with each other, Stacy’s mood changed.

 

As for Moore, he steered clear of the PR and marketing offices for the rest of the week and actually would have preferred to play away that weekend as a result of the discomfort he felt. No such luck – the fixture list had Pools coming to Oxford and no amount of the manager’s personal discomfort was going to change that.

 

He also felt he couldn’t go to Eales – how was he supposed to explain he felt uncomfortable because he had been dancing with the woman who was his sworn enemy just a few short months ago? He was uncomfortable a few months ago but for the exact opposite reason. That wouldn’t have done, would it?

 

He also smelled a trap. There was no reason – at all – for Kyle to trust Diana. And there was no possibility of any sort of relationship, despite her words, on a wide variety of fronts. Even Kyle could see that every possible outcome in that case was not just bad, it was awful.

 

There was good news, though – at long last, the cast came off Kyle’s injured arm. It having itched frightfully for two weeks prior to the last doctor’s visit, he preferred having to deal with the issue of two arms of differing sizes instead.

 

The atrophy in his muscles had at first been funny to look at and then annoying, but at least Kyle had more or less full use of his arms for the first time since his accident. As his players gathered for the match, Kyle was desperate for anything that could have instilled a sense of normalcy in either his routine or in his demeanor.

 

He was unsettled, and his team knew it. Then they went out and played a highly unsettled first half before a decent crowd at the Kassam which was wondering how their heroes could have laid such a huge egg.

 

They kept Hartlepool away from Ashdown easily enough, but in attack the Us were frankly rotten. Missed passes, players playing with their heads down and not making good runs when off the ball – the players who weren’t looking in the right places to make passes really had no one to make passes to because no one was moving.

 

Finally, Kyle strode to the touchline and made his feelings known in quite a loud tone. “The match started at 3pm, gentlemen,” he yelled, to a mixture of laughter from fans with a sense of humor and derision from those who did not. He wasn’t happy – at all – and Oxford didn’t register a single shot on target in the first half. That was exceptionally rare for a Kyle Cain-managed team, and so the players got a special talk at halftime.

 

“You know, lads, these guys aren’t going to just roll over for you. You have to earn it. Now, how about going out there and looking like professionals in the second half so you don’t spend all of Monday’s training session running?”

 

The first person who got the message for Kyle’s men was Hoban, thanks to an amazing effort from MacDonald. Forced wide – very wide, in fact – by defender Darren Holden, the Scotsman whipped an impossibly long cross from fully forty yards right onto the toe of the Irishman in the six-yard box after he had slipped defender Neil Austin with an impeccably timed run. Keeper Scott Flinders had no chance, and Oxford led 1-0 four minutes into the second half.

 

But after that, it was back to sleep. The next ten minutes saw Oxford stalled in midfield and defending listlessly, as Ashdown was called into action twice in five minutes to save from Nicky Featherstone and Matt Green.

 

“They’re playing with cement boots on,” Kyle complained to Fazackerley.

 

“Can’t expect perfection every week, you know that,” he replied. “You weren’t five-star every time out when you played, were you?”

 

Kyle smiled thinly. “No, but when I played I left everything on the pitch. Some of these players don’t seem too keen on that idea today.”

 

He was preoccupied, just like his team, so it was hard for Kyle to swing the hammer as hard as he really needed to be – and his team was winning, so that made it even more difficult.

 

At seventy minutes, Hoban went down under a robust challenge from Austin, who had missed a similar challenge just before the Irishman’s goal, and Hoban had to come off in favor of Will Hoskins. Rose also hadn’t had his best match in the holding role and came off for Meades as part of a double substitution at the same time.

 

And then, substitute James Overton made it easy in 76 minutes, when he made contact with Gnanduillet in the penalty area, who went over perhaps a bit too easily. Referee Scott Mathieson bought it, and pointed to the spot. Hoskins made no mistake and as impotent as Hartlepool looked, it was all over.

 

It was ugly. Very ugly, in fact, but it was three points.

 

Oxford United 2 (Hoban 49, Hoskins pen 77)

Hartlepool 0

H/T: 0-0

A – 7,505, Kassam Stadium, Oxford

Man of the Match: Alex MacDonald, Oxford United (MR 8.5)

 

# # #

[tenthreeleader]

"Sit down, lads. There are a few things I need to tell you."

 

Kyle wasn't best pleased. Yes, the match was won and it was even a clean sheet, but his team had been sleepwalking through most of the 90 minutes. They had won in spite of themselves, and had it not been for two moments of brilliance from MacDonald and Hoban, they might not have won at all.

 

"You got away with one today," he said, speaking very firmly. "It does not show in the scoreline and it doesn't affect you in the table, but you got away with one today. This was a team that you should have put a cricket score on and instead you let them hang around until they gave you a late penalty to seal the points. Where you men say you want to go, that's not good enough. And it's my job to be sure you know that."

 

There were some looks of surprise on players' faces as Kyle looked around the room - and that was good.  The most surprised face belonged to Gnanduillet, who already wasn't getting on with Hoskins in his tutoring arrangement and now looked ready to say something.

 

So he did.

 

"That is not what the players need to hear," the striker said, and everyone in the room turned to look at him. "We won. You should be happy." His tone was just an inch south of accusatory and it was a direct test of wills.

 

Crossing Kyle Cain in front of his players was something no one had ever tried at Oxford United. It had happened at the end at Torquay, but it had never happened here. So, the club's target man now wore a slightly different type of target.

 

Kyle spoke.

 

"Your opinion is noted, Armand," Kyle said, trying to keep his temper. "But in this room, the only opinion that matters is mine, because I decide how this team is set up and how it plays. I also evaluate how well it has played. And I'll tell you this, and all of you this, right now. I'm going to challenge you and some of you might not like me getting into your safe spaces. So, here is a warning: if you like me every day, one of us isn't doing our job. Now, be better so you can reach the goals you set for yourselves. Okay, get to your routines and enjoy your evening. Victory day tomorrow, training at nine sharp Monday morning."

 

As the players dispersed, Kyle then gently pulled Gnanduillet aside.

 

"Love the passion," he said. "Hate the application. Never do that again. And if word gets out to anyone about our team talk, I will hold you personally responsible. So you've got a mission with your teammates and I'll expect you to succeed."

 

He then dismissed the player to his post-match routine and headed back into his office. Kyle knew he enjoyed the full confidence of both his chairman and his board so he knew he was dealing from a position of strength, and if Gnanduillet wanted to make a name for himself in the game someday, wrecking his dressing room wasn’t the way to do it. But still. Some people's kids ...

 

Shaking his head, he sat behind his desk. Fazackerley entered the room.

 

"There were some surprised faces in there, Kyle," the older man said. "But they needed to hear what you had to say. That was a good piece of management. They can't be complacent. That would be a shame given what is being built here."

 

Kyle smiled. "They don't always need to like me, Derek," he said. "That was the lesson I learnt at Torquay. But they damned well always need to listen to me, and that message won't be listened to if it's always how they're the best looking lad in the school."

 

"Lots of talent out there, that's being used properly," he said. "That is your doing and once the lads realize that, they'll be onside again. Just go about your business at training. You rattled their cages and they'll be better for it."

 

Kyle nodded and prepared to change his clothing back into his Oxford United travel suit to head home. On match days, he wanted the players to arrive at the ground looking like professionals but their trip home was for comfort. One quick shower later he was ready to leave, his gear bag slung over his shoulder.

 

Walking down the hallway toward the car park, he passed the front offices, and saw Diana Moore sat behind her desk. He waved as he passed.

 

"Kyle," she smiled, turning back to her computer screen. "Well done the lads."

 

He laughed. "We've been better, but we'll take the points."

 

"You're making it easier for our people to sell," she said. "That means more money in all our pockets. I'd take this kind of result all day. Be happy about that."

 

She was, in a way, saying the same thing Gnanduillet was -- but, for a change, Moore wasn't being quite so extroverted about it.

 

As they talked, Eales passed, heading toward the football staff offices, in the opposite direction Kyle had been walking. He leaned into Moore's office.

 

"May I just say it's good to see you talking to each other," he said, and both of the chairman's employees seemed pleased at the praise.

 

"We talked a bit the other night as well," Moore smiled. "I think you needn't fear, Mr. Chairman."

 

"Good," Eales replied, shaking Kyle's hand in congratulations as he headed down the hallway. Kyle then turned to Moore.

 

"Tell you what," he said. "There's a gathering in the Christchurch Suite I need to visit before I leave. Why don't you join me?"

 

She looked at him. "Won't Stacy be upset?" she asked.

 

"I don't know where Stacy is, and there's no harm in a drink," he said. "Is there?"

 

# # #

[tenthreeleader]

The answer had been, she was out.

 Kyle knew where “out” was, in all likelihood. He was flirting with the idea of telling Boyd Stokes, whenever he actually saw him, that he was welcome to whatever he wanted. And, clearly, what he still wanted was Mrs. Cain.

 He had known about the messages for weeks now. Jenna had told him. Kyle hadn’t been surprised, but then nothing really surprised him these days.

 Even Owen couldn’t raise his spirits. Kyle’s son was starting to develop a little personality of his own, but at only four months of age, that still wasn’t a lot.

 Kyle loved time with the wee man but things had reached the point where reconciliation was hardly an option. Owen was keeping Kyle from pulling the trigger on his marriage, but when Stacy was home, they rarely spoke. When she wasn’t, there was about as much conversation. So Kyle wondered how much time he’d actually get with Owen when things finally reached their inevitable conclusion.

 Kyle consoled himself, for the time being, with the knowledge that his was the last Football League team outside the Premier League which was still unbeaten. Both the Manchester clubs as well as Everton had still not tasted defeat in the top flight, but they had played fewer matches. Oxford’s accomplishment was impressive.

 And the conversation after the match the preceding Saturday had stayed out of the papers, which told Kyle something about Gnanduillet. While nobody liked being called out in front of his team by a player, Kyle was also smart enough to realize that Gnanduillet was not only playing well, he was popular with the fans. As such, discipline would be handed out carefully – but it would be handed out nevertheless.

 The two talked again on the Monday following the Hartlepool match. Kyle made his feelings clear again, the player once again didn’t back down, and Kyle told the striker how things were going to be.

 “You’ll be sat for Burton,” Kyle said, and that was news. Burton Albion was one of the few clubs which could match Oxford United stride for stride in League Two. They were second in the table, on 22 points from 27 on offer, while Oxford led with 23.

 What was worse was that Gnanduillet would be sat for Will Hoskins, his would-be tutor and present-day foil. They weren’t getting on, and Kyle had had to end their arrangement early. They didn’t actively dislike each other, but both thought they knew better than the other on the training ground. That wasn’t a good thing when one player was supposed to be ‘paying it forward’ to the other.

 Gnanduillet would take some careful handling. At that moment, he was behaving like a ‘special snowflake’, and Kyle didn’t have much time for that as an old-school, hard-nosed striker himself.

 “Player power” had always bothered Kyle, even when he was a player. At least, on the pitch. Off the pitch, he was always his own master and that was right, in his eyes.

 But now he had an issue. Gnanduillet was rapidly becoming an important part of the Oxford attack and as such, the manager needed to keep him onside.

 Where Kyle had grown up, he learned that the role of a player was to do what he was told, when he was told to do it. Naturally, that tended to breed authoritarian managers, but that wasn’t called for here.

 He wasn’t an Alex Ferguson or a Jose Mourinho, managers who had the chops to tell world-class players to get bent when they stepped out of line. He was a small-time manager with a point to prove and that point involved wins more than it involved bending players to his will.

 So he sat at his desk twirling a pencil over and over between his hands, as he tried to figure out what he was going to do. He wouldn’t let his authority be challenged – even in today’s player power age, that was suicide – but he had to sit the striker for the biggest match his team had to play this early in the season.

 That was annoying. But Gnanduillet had brought it on himself.

 # # #

[tenthreeleader]

26 September 2015 – Burton Albion (7-1-1, 2^nd place) v Oxford United (7-2-0, 1^st place)
Sky Bet League Two Match Day #10 – Pirelli Stadium, Burton-upon-Trent
Referee: Carl Boyeson

 After arrival at the Pirelli Stadium, Kyle looked out at the home team as it started its warm-ups. There he was: Moreno, the player he had tried so hard to land from Wigan the season before. He was wearing the enemy colors today – and, if Nigel Worthington had any sense, for the rest of the season if he could arrange it.

 The 32-year old former Brazilian u-20 player had made quite a splash since his arrival, making his team as dangerous as Oxford going forward.

 Kyle’s words to his team were to watch out for Moreno and to be better than they had been for most of the Hartlepool match. Doing the first would help take care of the second.

 As the match kicked off, it became apparent that Burton was easily the paciest team Oxford had faced. Worthington’s eleven had bags of it, all over the pitch. Where they weren’t fast, they were smart – Worthington’s staff had done its homework and they knew just where to push to create space in the Oxford defense.

 Veteran striker Stuart Beavon showed his ability to force the issue within thirty seconds of kickoff, forcing Ashdown into a save from a looping header which, while it didn’t cause trouble, was surely a statement of intent.

 Dunkley then made a great play on Moreno, with a slide tackle to dispossess him after O’Dowda didn’t make a great play. The winger instead did a fine impersonation of a stadium turnstile, with the Brazilian simply running around him like he hadn’t been there. Dunkley forced a corner and play resumed.

 For all their early huffing and puffing, Burton couldn’t find a way through, which was a great thing for a couple of reasons. First, Kyle’s standard tactic was built for attack, not for defense, and to see the team defending as well as it was given the constraints of its own tactic counted for quite a bit.

 Kyle’s philosophy had long been that you couldn’t concede a goal if the opposition was fishing the ball out of its own net. It wasn’t merely possession-based – lots of teams did that – but possession with a purpose, an attacking intent. The board loved it and Kyle didn’t mind cheering the goals his Flying Circus was starting to score.

 One of those goals came shortly afterward, after a rather moribund stretch solved by a moment of brilliance from Will Hoskins. The player who had been the deadliest striker on last season’s United was something of a forgotten man in this season’s version, but O’Dowda had made sure that changed on this evening with a lovely little chip into the area that Hoskins couldn’t, and didn’t, miss from ten yards.

 It was a bit against the run of play, but that hardly mattered. Burton was much the more fluid side, but Oxford continued to find the answers on the defensive side of the ball.

 The visitors continued to press, probe and ask questions, but Ashdown kept coming up with “are you kidding me” as a reply, and so the match made it to halftime with Oxford one goal to the good.

 Instead of lighting into the team for a subpar performance at home despite the score, Kyle opted for a bit of a different motivational strategy.

 “Lads, I’m proud of the way you defended and the commitment you showed,” he said, to some surprised expressions. “They pushed hard at you and I expect they’re figuring out how to do the same in the second half. But we aren’t going to let them through. You’ve worked extremely hard to gain this lead and to hold it, so my expectation is that you’ll figure out a way to keep it all the way to the end so you can take the points.”

 With that, he went to all four of the defenders plus Ashdown and shook their hands. It meant something to those players, who had been a bit overshadowed by Oxford’s prowess in the attacking third.

 It was a calculated risk. He had no intention of avoiding the attack in the second half and knew full well that playing not to lose instead of playing to win would probably be fatal, but special praise for his defenders gave them the boost they needed even as Kyle took a chance that that praise might lead to overconfidence.

 He then sent them out for the second half and dared Burton to do their worst.

 Which was more or less what they did. Understandably, a significant portion of the Burton attack went through Moreno, who was arguably the most polished and skilled player on the park for either team. So it was the easiest thing in the world to make sure the right side of midfield and the right full back position got help from the center of the park.

 MacDonald needed the help more than Grandison, who was physically strong enough to handle the challenge of the Brazilian where the more offensively-minded MacDonald had greater issues holding his man at bay. But when Moreno got to Grandison, his story ended at the front door.

 At the 65-minute mark, it was pretty obvious that the Flying Circus was missing at least one tent pole so any further offensive work would probably have to come on the counter. So Kyle pulled MacDonald out of the match and replaced him with Meades, a more defensively-minded player who was ready to prove his worth.

 He did. Burton was held off with increasing ease as the match wore on, and the top-of-the-table clash between two offensive juggernauts ended with a one-nil scrape that was the stuff of teams with a decidedly different focus.

 Yet, there was one issue that galled Kyle as much as it galled the player in question. Hoskins limped off in 72 minutes with a twisted knee that would require rest and therapy. Just when he was playing his way back into the eleven, he was out of it again.

Burton Albion 0
Oxford United 1 (Hoskins 19)
H/T: 0-1
A – 3,294, Pirelli Stadium, Burton-on-Trent
Man of the Match: Jermaine Grandison, Oxford (MR 7.6)

 # # #

[tenthreeleader]

"Thank you for meeting me, Stacy."

 Boyd Stokes was dressed to the nines. He hadn't thought he would get this opportunity, but there they were, in London, at dinner.

 And together.

 He had missed Stacy, even if he had annoyed her with his salty texts about the severity of Kyle's injuries. She hadn't appreciated that, but she had appreciated him in other ways.

 He had been there for her, even after she had gone back to Kyle, and that was surely more than Stacy could say for her husband. He had been wherever he had been, running his team and trying to run her life from wherever he was.

 She was excited to get away, even for a time.

 Now she looked at him over the top of a perfectly lovely Chinese dinner, dressed to please. She had always liked how professional he looked and he had pulled out all the stops for his reunion night. His suit was brown, with a gold tie that matched his dishwater blonde hair quite nicely, with a matching pocket square that capped off a most erudite appearance.

 In the past, when she had been 'dressed to please', it had been much different, and generally involved lingerie of some kind. That time wasn't to be found here. Boyd Stokes had a different goal in mind.

 "Does he know you're here?" he asked.

 "He has no idea where I am," she replied. "And I don't think he cares. He's probably chasing some lovely young thing."

 "He ought to be chasing you," Boyd replied.

 "So gallant," Stacy teased, raising her wine glass to him.

 He changed the subject.  "How's your little one?" Boyd asked, smiling at her.

 "He's doing well," she replied. "Soon he'll be ready to start rolling over. Then I'll never be able to keep up with him."

 "Keeps you looking good," Boyd replied. He couldn't help himself.

 "Stop trying so hard," Stacy said. "Honestly, Boyd, I love the attention and you know that, but there's nobody else I want."

 Stokes looked down at his glass and traced an index finger around it, hard enough so the noise of the rubbing was audible. "That's just it," he finally said. "If there's nobody else you want, why are you still with that lump?"

 "I've told you," she finally said, "It's Owen."

 "I get that it's Owen," he replied, trying to hide his frustration. "But what I can't get past is that you don't think much of Kyle as a father yet you're there with him, and I'd do anything to be with you and have a go at raising that little one together. Why won't you do that?"

 Now it was Stacy's turn to take her time in reply. "I just thought it would be the right thing to do," she finally said. "With Jenna expecting, I thought she might want to have her mum around instead of sitting around when Kyle and Miles are footballing. I felt it was my responsibility."

 "But you aren't happy," Boyd protested.

 "No. I'm definitely not happy," Stacy answered. "And part of me feels badly, that I led you on or something."

 "I never thought that," he replied. "I fell for you. I don't feel led on. I asked you here to tell you, whether you believe it or not, that I'm happy to take on those parts of your life with Owen and with your kids that you don't feel you can handle right now."

 "What does that mean?" she said, a slight frown creasing her brow.

 "You need help. You're unhappy. Your husband isn't paying attention to you. For all you know, he's sleeping with someone right now."

 "Oh, I’m not worried about that," she replied, her frown now replaced by a smile. "I've got someone watching him very closely. Someone who doesn't really like him, so if he steps out of line even once more ..."

 Her voice trailed off. 

 "...I'll have all the information I need," she said, raising her glass to Boyd Stokes a second time.

 # # #

[MP27]

Ahh, the truth comes out about Ms Moore's intentions?! Great writing as per usual 10-3.

[tenthreeleader]

Life sucks and then you die, right?

____

Kyle sat in his office after the morning training session watching Sky Sports and commiserated with a group of men who were having a feeling he knew all too well.

 For some reason or other, this was the day where chairmen formally lost patience with underperforming teams and as such, sacked their field bosses.

 “God, there goes another one,” Kyle mused to Fazackerley as the news Bradford City had sacked John Still crossed the Press Association’s wires.

 Earlier in the day, Colchester had sacked Brian Laws. Just a few months before, they had been playing in League One but now had sunk to 18^th in League Two. Bury had parted ways with Paul Tisdale with the team sitting 22^nd in the table, and Middlesbrough, off to a truly dreadful 23^rd place start in the Championship, sacked Billy Davies.

 Bradford was a league up, so Kyle was interested to see that speculation for the Bantams job involved both John Coleman of Stevenage and Micky Mellon of Shrewsbury, Oxford’s playoff conquerors from the season before.

 Coleman had done an unreasonably good job in making his team unreasonably difficult to score against, but yesterday’s results had put Borough three points behind Kyle’s United in the table. Mellon had probably earned a shot at a higher profile position in his own right.

 On the same day they sacked their manager, Colchester raised a few eyebrows by signing 37-year old Emile Heskey to a contract. Once the Next Big Thing in English football when he played first for Leicester and then for Liverpool, the big fellow was still big, but in ways that occur more naturally over time.

 Meanwhile, Lord’s training report on the striker Kyle was immediately concerned with – Will Hoskins – was both good and bad.

 The good news was that there wasn’t ligament damage or any meniscus issues. The bad news was that the twist he had suffered was bad enough – he would need at least two weeks before hard running, followed by regaining match condition. That was annoying.

 But, as Kyle watched his television, he figured it could be worse – he could be John Still, or Brian Laws, or Billy Davies. To name just a few.

 He sat back in his chair, which for now was still his, and wondered when his time would come. It came for everyone in this game, sooner or later.

 For now, though, things were good. Kyle topped the league and his team was the toast of the town. That was the best of both worlds for any manager, and as he enjoyed that particular thought, his phone rang.

 It was Vic Young. The two hadn’t talked much except on a professional level since their spat over Allison, but now, as was often the case when a reporter wanted something, bygones could very well become bygones.

 “I’m hearing that David Flitcroft’s job is on the line,” she said. “Any thoughts on him?”

 To Kyle, that was too bad. John Still had rubbed Kyle the wrong way with a few quotes, perhaps misattributed or, in the finest tradition of Fleet Street, taken totally out of context, about his team the season before, but Kyle still hadn’t wanted to see him sacked.

 Flitcroft was different. Luton had put up a hell of a fight in the playoff semifinals just a few short months ago and, despite the rivalry that existed between their clubs, Kyle had a healthy respect for the way Flitcroft’s team played the game.

 He took a deep breath.

 “Luton are a rival, I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to comment just at the moment,” Kyle said. “I will say that I respect Gary a lot and I know he will have his team ready to play Northampton at the weekend.”

 She tried not to sound disappointed.

 “Not even a good quote for me, Kyle?” she said. “Are you still mad at me?”

 “No,” he answered, meaning it. “I just don’t want to run the risk of starting World War III along the A418.”

 “Then why won’t you give me something quoteable?”

 “Come on, Vic, use your head,” he said, sounding like he was cross but not meaning it. “You never know. Someday people are going to be writing things like this about me and I’ll need every friend I can get.”

 “Maybe I’ll be one of them,” Young replied, sounding like she was cross, but Kyle wasn’t sure if she meant it.

 # # #

 

[tenthreeleader]

3 October 2016 – Oxford United (8-2-0, 1^st place) v Eastleigh (1-3-6, 24^th place)

Sky Bet League Two Match Day #11 – The Kassam Stadium, Oxford

Referee: Chris Sarginson

 

On paper, this wasn’t supposed to be much of a match. Bottom away to top should be a reason for the home team to romp to three points.

 

That was what the oddsmakers figured, anyway, and Eastleigh looked to be little more than a speed bump to them. To Kyle, however, the visitors were a lot more than that.

 

They were a trip wire, and with Stevenage waiting to pounce on any mistake, everyone in blue and yellow knew that a solid effort would be required to take home the points.

 

“They’re going to work until they drop,” he predicted. “This is the kind of match where you need to be sharp or they’re going to bite you.”

 

“They’ve only bit one so far,” Skarz cracked from the back of the room, drawing a glare from his boss.

 

“And that attitude will get you beat, Joe,” Kyle snapped. “Do not be the man who disappoints me today on this point. Am I clear?”

 

Kyle watched Skarz’s grin disappear in front of his eyes and that was enough for him. He also handed Danny Rose his 300^th league appearance with a starting assignment that really seemed to please the veteran. Their earlier disagreement now smoothed over, Kyle knew he could count on a professional performance from him and Rose knew he could trust his manager to put him in positions where he was most likely to succeed.

 

Eastleigh was one such opportunity. The early highlight from the home fans’ point of view was the chance to welcome home James Constable, who had scored 49 goals in 84 appearances for Oxford in their conference days – and 96 goals in total for the team before Eastleigh signed him on a free at the start of the 2014-15 season. Back in the Conference, Constable scored 22 goals in 42 matches the season before to help lift his team to promotion.

 

Right away, Oxford pressed as Kyle sent his team out to attack, and they jumped on the visitors like a pack of wild dogs. Harrop forced a corner inside of three minutes, Dunkley barely missed with a piledriver a minute later and midfielder Craig Stanley had to be substituted after only seven minutes due to a thigh strain, replaced by Reece Hands.

 

Oxford used the injury respite to rest up for another wave attack on the visitors’ goal. The Spitfires defended bravely but Hoban broke their resistance in twenty minutes with a well-taken half-volley from MacDonald’s cross.

 

Kyle had been right – Eastleigh was working very hard – but without effect. It seemed as though they were lost on the pitch and that spelled very bad news for Richard Hill and his men.

 

The breakthrough achieved, Oxford almost immediately switched off in attack – they could have any shot they wanted but once they got the shot, God only knew where the shot would wind up.

 

A quick, and very terse word from the touchline seemed to jerk the players’ attention back on the game – the word Kyle had screamed was ‘concentrate!’ – and that certainly seemed to get through to MacDonald.  Grandison found him with a ball into the box on the right side, and watching him turn defender Lewis Aird to the inside was beautiful. Watching him beat Jake Larkins to his right post for two-nil in 33 minutes was even better.

 

Six minutes later, Skarz traveled down the left, passing MacDonald on the left and looking to cross into the box. From the touchline, he lofted the ball toward the right edge of the six-yard box. Larkins came for the ball – and then looked up with the horror every keeper feels when he knows he’s come too far.

 

Desperately, he backtracked, his studs turning up a flap of grass as he tried to change direction. He reached up for the ball and it flew over his outstretched fingertips. And, since Skarz had missed his aiming point, it was 3-0 because the ball found the left corner of the goal instead.

 

Skarz reacted with a sheepish grin and Kyle couldn’t help but laugh. Skarz never lacked for confidence and this surely wouldn’t hurt him any.

 

To call that goal a backbreaker would have been an insult to fractures the world over. It was far worse. Eastleigh’s players headed to the locker room six minutes after Skarz’s accidental moment of brilliance a chastened, and defeated, team.

 

“Well done, but don’t be the man who lets that lot back into this match,” Kyle warned as his players took halftime refreshment with the air of players who have things under control.

 

Gnanduillet was first to get the message, pounding home the fourth goal from close range only three minutes after the restart. Kyle sat back in his seat and couldn’t help but smile. This was what was supposed to happen, by God, and Wright’s free header from a corner in 62 minutes just made it an ideal opening hour or so.

 

Eastleigh wrecked Ashdown’s bid for a clean sheet but they did it in the best possible way – through Constable. The fans, who could afford to be generous, gave their former hero a shout and a cheer after his goal fifteen minutes from time, but that was all the visitors could manage.

 

Even that was too much for Kyle, though, who saw a chance to make a perfect statement and had to settle for merely a very good one.

 

Still, not bad. Not bad at all.

 

Oxford United 5 (Hoban 20, MacDonald 33, Skarz 39, Gnanduillet 48, Wright 62)

Eastleigh 1 (James Constable 75)

H/T: 3-0

A – 7,575, Kassam Stadium, Oxford

Man of the Match: Alex MacDonald, Oxford (MR 9.2)

 

# # #
 

[tenthreeleader]

“Where’s my quote now?” Vic asked as Kyle entered the interview area.

 “I don’t follow you,” Kyle said.

 “Flitcroft,” she answered, and Kyle figured something bad must have happened. It had, as the Hatters’ board ran out of patience after Luton lost by a goal to nil at Sixfields.

 “David’s a good manager,” Kyle replied. “He had some good success last season and even though Luton are a rival, my hat’s off to him for the job he did with that club.”

 “Some say losing the playoff to you last year took the heart out of his team,” she continued.

 “I wouldn’t speculate on an opponent like that and you know it,” Kyle replied, knowing a tripwire question when he saw one. It was a question he would frankly have expected from Bill Churchill, and that distinction was not lost on him. “Anything to ask about the match we’ve just played?”

 “Five-one,” she said. “Sort of writes itself.”

 “Be a bit bare without quotes,” Kyle said with a smile, waiting to see if the reporter would rise to the occasion. Eventually, she did.

 “Five different players,” she observed. “That’s quite a show.”

 “We’ve done it both ways,” Kyle said. “We’ve now had five scored by one player and five scored by five different players. We’ll take it any way it comes.”

 “Do you think teams play scared against you?” Vic asked, and Kyle had to think that through carefully. This was a dangerous question on a number of fronts.

 If he answered ‘no’, he risked ruining the carefully-built confidence of his players. If he answered ‘yes’, he’d be making a clickbait quote which would be all over League Two in no time flat.

 He took a neutral tack. “I think teams respect what we’re doing,” he said, “and that’s different. If you play scared here you’ll be out of the Football League before you know what hit you. I’ve been through that and it’s no fun, believe me.”

 “Some teams look like they’re ready to park the bus before the kickoff,” she followed.

 Kyle scratched the back of his head, which suddenly itched from the discomfort both from a brand-new itch as well as from the line of questioning.

 “Then we take that as a compliment,” he replied. “There’s going to come a day when these shots we take aren’t all going to go in, and we’ll need to be ready for that.”

 “One more thing,” she said, as Kyle turned to leave. “The team is drawing better crowds, up about 1,500 fans per game from last year. Do you think your style has something to do with that?”

 “I think winning has something to do with that,” he replied, still wary of Vic’s fishing expedition. “We are winning with some style of late and that has hopefully brought some more fans out to the ground. They’ve been great, though, and that is the main thing.”

 “And now you go to Northampton, the team that spelled the end for David Flitcroft,” she continued, with just a touch of mischief in her eye. Some people never give up.

 “That’s what the fixture list says,” Kyle said. “We’re going to try a few new things in the JPT and get a look at players in different spots. We need to know what certain people can do over and above their usual responsibilities as the season wears on.”

 “Sounds like you’re putting out a second eleven,” a visiting reporter said.

 “We don’t have first and second elevens here,” Kyle snapped. “We have Oxford United elevens. And if you’re good enough to put on that shirt, you’re good enough to do a job for that shirt regardless of circumstance.”

 That was Kyle’s favorite kind of answer, where he could stand up for all his players at the same time. It had been a simple question he had knocked for six.

 The media gathering broke up and Kyle headed back to his office to prepare for his trip home.

 In his office sat Jenna. Kyle was a bit surprised to see his daughter in that particular location, and she sat with her feet curled on the sofa along the far wall by the door, surfing on her phone.

 “What brings you here?” Kyle asked, preparing to step into his dressing area which contained a private bath and shower area.

 “Miles isn’t back from the ground yet,” she said. “Thought I’d spend some time with my dad.”

 “Well, that’s decent of you,” he smiled.

 “You are still my other best man,” she giggled. If Kyle thought hard enough, he might well have imagined there was nothing to worry about in his world.

 # # #

[Mysterio Jr.]

Been a silent reader for a while but a huge fan of your work 10-3!! The writing is excellent, the characters keep you hooked on like a soap-opera. I hope you keep continuing this thread for a long, long while. I want to see Kyle go all the way. Splendid job bro!!

[tenthreeleader]

Thank you for the kind words and thanks for giving your first forum post to this story. If your name indicates that you are a fan of lucha libre, you get double points
___

“I told you before, really, he’s the soul of discretion when he’s around me, and I haven’t heard anything different from anyone else.”

 Diana Moore was on the phone in her office, the door closed. After a successful home match – a rout, in fact – she had work to do, and she really didn’t want to be doing what she was doing.

 “You know the arrangement,” Stacy said. “All I need is one little slip and you all can have your revenge.”

 “Well, it’s not going to come from me, if that’s what you’re insinuating,” the Oxford United marketer replied. “Just leave off with that sort of talk.”

 “Don’t take it personally,” Stacy said. “I know your family doesn’t like him any better than mine does.”

 “Well, if you think I’m placing myself in a compromising position, just think again,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve work to do. Good night.”

 Moore hung up the phone with a heavy sigh and turned to the work on her computer. She was working on a social media schedule to promote fan buses to Northampton’s Sixfields Stadium for the midweek’s cup tie, and she knew that the way the team was playing, people would want to go.

 So, she had work to do. Presently, there came a tap on her door.

 “Come in,” she said, not looking up from her screen.

 “You’re going to wind up in hospital if you keep working these hours,” Eales said, stepping inside the office.

 “Well, money waits for no man, or no woman for that matter,” Moore smiled, now diverted from her work by the presence of the chairman.

 “And we appreciate that,” Eales said. “I just wanted to let you know that while we’re concerned for the team’s welfare, we’re also concerned for the staff, and you’re an important part of that.”

 At that, Moore smiled.

 “Thank you,” she replied, brushing a wisp of hair back onto her shoulders. “It’s always nice to be reminded, and I mean that sincerely.”

 “You’ve come a long way over the last few months, and I’ve heard that from everyone,” Eales said. “That’s not a knock on your performance prior to this, but the things we’re seeing are really top-drawer stuff.”

 “Well, if we really are going up a league next season, we’ll need to be ready from a marketing standpoint to take best advantage,” she said. “I have a plan together to present to the board for next month – barely missed this month, I’m afraid.”

 “No matter,” Eales said, “in due course we’ll have time to look at it. For now, though, well done.”

 With that, he was gone, down the hall to the manager’s office. Kyle was no less happy to see his boss, who had a message for him.

 “I’m pretty sure I overheard Diana talking with your wife on the phone a few minutes ago,” Eales said. “She was defending you pretty stoutly, and I thought you’d want to know.”

 Kyle shrugged.

 “Honestly, I can’t be arsed,” the manager replied, as Jenna looked on in a state of semi-shock. The chairman hadn’t seen Kyle’s daughter behind the door since he hadn’t fully entered the room. As he did, he reacted with a start.

 “Kyle, I’m sorry, I didn’t know your daughter was here,” he began. He gave Kyle a look of consternation.

 “Look, it’s all right,” Kyle responded. “Maybe this is something Jenna really needs to hear.”

 # # #

[Mysterio Jr.]

Lucha libre it is bro!! Let the points roll in. 

[tenthreeleader]

6 October 2015 – Northampton Town (7^th place, League Two) v Oxford United (1^st place, League Two)

Johnstone’s Paint Trophy – South Subsection Second Round – Sixfields Stadium, Northampton

Referee: Eddie Ilderton

 

They had talked for quite a long time after Eales had left Kyle’s office.

 

“I didn’t know it was that bad, Dad,” Jenna began, but Kyle simply shrugged his shoulders.

 

“Been that way for quite some time,” he said, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa from her.

 

“Why on earth did it come to this?” she said, first wiping her face with the palms of her hands – a classic nervous reaction – and then resting her chin in the palms of her hands propped against her knees.

 

“Sometimes it hasn’t been easy,” Kyle admitted. “But I’ve tried to be good for the family and I’ve tried to be good to you. If your mother has been talking with Diana Moore, about anything, you can be assured it isn’t good.”

 

“But Diana was defending you,” Jenna said.

 

“According to Mr. Eales, yes, she was,” Kyle replied. “But the only thing I dislike about this job is not knowing who I can trust.”

 

Kyle knew for certain, though, that the people he could trust to get a result that night were on the park as the league leaders traveled to Sixfields for the Cup tie against the Cobblers.

 

It wasn’t an especially long trip but Kyle used the opportunity to blood a comparatively young team – and one which again, looked different from the Oxford XI which had preceded it in the league at the weekend

 

Bevans got the start at right full-back, Whing started in the center of defense alongside the Oxford debutant Gallifuoco, Richards deputized for Skarz and both Rose and Ashby made the same midfield, which hadn’t happened very often. Ashby was finally healthy enough to be considered again, returning to the eleven for the first time since his injury in the opening game. With both he and Rose looking for more time on the pitch, now was the time for them to stand up and be counted.

 

Another of the youngsters was James Roberts, also playing his first senior match since breaking his foot late the season before. He, too, made things count – on the scoreboard – less than two minutes into the match. It was frankly a fluke – Hylton’s long ball up the center of the park bounced behind the Cobbler back line, which had been playing entirely too high up the park, and Roberts found himself in a race for the ball with keeper Dean Snedker, who came out to challenge.

 

Too late, the keeper realized he had left his area and the ball bounded over his head. Too late he attempted to get between the ball and Roberts, but it was the easiest thing in the world for Roberts to round him and score into the empty net with just 1:46 on the clock.

 

That would have been great had not the new makeshift backline switched off at the same moment just four minutes later, with Irish striker John-Joe O’Toole easily beating a stranded Ryan Clarke for two goals in the first six minutes.

 

The football gods giveth and taketh away, and they took again before the end of the first half as Rose was crocked after a heavy challenge by Solomon Sambou, who got a healthy reception from the home faithful while Kyle’s midfielder rolled on the ground clutching his shin.

 

The native of The Gambia stood over Rose as if to apologize, but the Englishman was having none of it. Neither was Kyle, who was screaming for a card at the same time the physios were waved onto the pitch.

 

Referee Eddie Ilderton was having none of it, though, and the teams slogged on toward half, the pace reduced considerably from the first frantic ten minutes. The game needed a bit of magic, and once again it was Roberts the provider. MacDonald’s throw in found the young striker near the byline and his cross was perfect. Hylton slipped away from former Aberdeen man Zander Diamond and lofted an inch-perfect header home to the top left corner of the goal in the second minute of added time.

 

That gave Kyle’s men a halftime lead they probably deserved, and made the tenor of the team talk a bit more positive.

 

The second half saw the home side push harder, as could reasonably have been expected, and their efforts came to fruition right on the hour mark as Ivan Toney punished Oxford’s failure to clear its lines with a rising drive to Clarke’s top right corner that gave the keeper no chance.

 

But there was worse news, as Roberts, who had just spent four months on the sidelines, limped off after a challenge from the same Solomon Sambou who had crocked Rose.

 

Roberts was a precocious talent, Kyle wanted to give him every opportunity to succeed, and then this happened. Angrily, as Sambou again went unpunished, Kyle went to his bench for an injury substitution, bringing on Patrick Hoban for the youngster. On paper it was a great move, but Kyle hadn’t wanted to risk League Two’s leading marksman unless it was necessary – and now it was.

 

Now in a 2-2 draw and with the possibility of added time staring him in the face, Kyle’s mood darkened. Six minutes from time, though, Clarke’s goal kick found Hylton on the left and he knocked it down for Ashby. A slick ball to Gnanduillet followed, and the target man spun to play the ball forward onto the run of Hoban.

 

The striker headed into the box and was felled by yet another challenge from Sambou, but the ball rolled kindly to MacDonald, who had dashed behind the back line from an onside position as Hoban reached the box. With Snedker coming out to play Hoban, he had no chance.

 

That made Kyle feel a lot better. The match was won but two players were on the shelf, one of whom had just come off of it.

 

Northampton Town 2 (John-Joe O’Toole 6, Ivan Toney 60)

Oxford United 3 (Roberts 2, Hylton 45+2, MacDonald 85)

H/T: 1-2

A – 1,945, Sixfields Stadium, Northamptonshire

Man of the Match: James Roberts, Oxford United (MR 8.5)

 

# # #

[tenthreeleader]

Benny Chapman had been a busy guy.

 

Laughingly, he had described himself as “Kyle Cain’s personal bartender” after a series of visits earlier in the season, but now he was all ears as the manager unloaded.

 

“Honestly, Benny, what the hell would you think?” Kyle asked.

 

“I’d think the same as you,” the older man answered, wiping a mug dry as he did. “I would. Now, I know what I told you before, Kyle, but there’s really no reason for you to be treated like this.”

 

The Oxford manager gave a half-smile in reply. “You know I’m already a good tipper,” he cracked. “There’s nothing extra in it for you to say these kinds of things, you know.”

 

“It’s just the truth as I see it,” he said, noticing Kyle’s glass was empty at the same time. “Have another? I’ll buy this one. Since your lads started walking the league, my sales are up fifteen percent. People like coming out to have a pint after the matches, so the least I can do is be grateful.”

 

“Glad to hear it, Benny,” Kyle replied, swirling the remainder of a Shotover Trinity in the bottom of his glass before downing it. He gently pushed the glass back toward the barkeep, but the watery ring left by the glass – Kyle always liked to put his glass down exactly where he had picked it up – stopped the glass dead on the bar.

 

Chapman smiled and replaced the glass, underneath a coaster. “You’re gonna ruin my bar,” he cracked, wiping the water off the former place Kyle’s glass had occupied.

 

For Kyle, it always seemed to be the same. The same ale in the same bar, usually at the same seat, with the same barkeep, and the glass in the same spot on the polished oaken surface.

 

The same unhappiness. The same questions. The same non-answers.

 

It was enough to make a guy drink. Except he was already doing that.

 

“Jenna saw it,” Kyle said, “and that was different from the last time. All she has known is what I’ve told her, and her mother has always been able to tell her a different story.” He took another pull from his fresh glass and concentrated on feeling the liquid sliding all the way into his stomach.

 

“Maybe it’s time,” Chapman said.

 

“I’ve got another hour,” Kyle said, looking at his watch.

 

“I don’t mean closing,” the bartender replied. “Or, maybe I do, in a different way. Maybe it’s time for you to do what you have to do.”

 

“That’s what I’ve thought for months, but what good would it do me?” Kyle said, in a moment of self-pity. “Allison is gone, she’s got somebody now, so I’d just be alone.”

 

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Chapman said. “Miss Moore seems pretty high on you.”

 

“Well, she’s the one been talking with Stacy,” Kyle said. “And even if I trusted her, which I don’t, why on earth would I give Stacy the knife she’d need to cut my throat?”

 

Benny Chapman smiled with a rueful grin. “Kyle, when did you get so wise about women all of a sudden?” If he hadn’t been Kyle’s friend, he might have gotten that lovely glass of Shotover Trinity all over the front of his shirt.

 

“I will take that as a joke, sir,” Kyle said, trying to smile but somehow failing to get all the muscles in his face to work. The end result was something like a sideways sneer.

 

“It was, to a point,” Chapman answered. “You’ve had some hard luck and made some bad decisions. Well, maybe the decision you need to make now is for the best. Owen will be well looked after, you know that, Stacy loves him too.”

 

“Well, I’d fight her for custody,” Kyle said. “I don’t feel that she’s a very good role model for him.”

 

“She isn’t seeing that bloke again?” Chapman waved his hand in the air, because he couldn’t remember Boyd Stokes’s name.

 

“I don’t know, probably,” Kyle answered. “It wouldn’t be the smartest thing she’s ever done in her life, but then they had a relationship while she was pregnant with Owen so I wouldn’t put anything past her.”

 

“Well, you know that whatever you decide, I’ll be here to help you talk through it.”

 

Now Kyle raised his glass again, but this time in toast. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said.

 

# # #

[tenthreeleader]

The matches were coming fast and thick now, with twelfth-placed Crawley Town next up for the U’s. Broadfield Stadium, also known to the corporate world as Checkatrade.com Stadium, would play host and the trip to West Sussex south of London would be a nice away day for the fans, about a 90-mile one-way journey.

 

Town was in indifferent form, with five wins from eleven and four losses. They were ripe, in other words, at least to Kyle.

 

The day’s news before the Crawley match was Colchester’s hiring of Peter Taylor, the onetime English  managerial flavor of the month at Leicester City who, in his one-game stint as England boss made David Beckham the captain.

 

Taylor had taken over a team that was relegated from League One the previous season and was on an eight-match winless streak in all competitions while managing to play like it was completely bereft of self-belief. United had managed to go nearly an entire calendar month – from 29 August to 27 September – without scoring a goal in six matches. That spelled doom for Brian Laws, who had also been unable to save the club from relegation. Not exactly an inspiring 267 days in charge.

 

Kyle wanted nothing like that sort of run of form from his team, so he continued to work the players fairly hard in training despite protests that seemed good-natured by most of the men who made them.

 

Kyle would handle dissent the old-fashioned way, walking up and down the rows of players while they did their pre-training stretches.

 

On the Friday before the match, he did it again. “How good do you want to be?” he asked, knowing the answer as well as they did. “Where else would you rather be?”

 

It seemed rah-rah at times but that was fine with Kyle. He wanted his players thinking constantly about what was ahead of them and until they lost a match, he was going to crack the whip.

 

It’s said that a long winning streak can bring more pressure than a long losing streak. Kyle knew it was his job to keep the players focused – and that it got harder and harder to do the more the team won.

 

He dismissed the team from training and the players hit the showers to prepare for the trip south. He headed back to his office and flopped down into his chair, waiting for the coach to arrive.

 

While an active player, he had never really enjoyed these trips. He tried to sleep, and brought his music with him as a matter of course – things he still did as a manager.

 

As a result, his team coaches tended to be quiet. On the longer rides, movies would be played – nothing that would have brought a morals charge, of course – but he would sit in his customary seat in the front row opposite the driver, headphones affixed, trying to sleep.

 

Except for this trip. They were nearly halfway to Sussex, just past Reading, and Kyle couldn’t even close his eyes.

 

It wasn’t because he was nervous. At least, not about the match.

 

Diana Moore had texted him again, to try to explain herself.

 

“I know you were approached by the chairman about a call he overheard between Stacy and me,” she had written. “Your wife has been most insistent that I find something wrong with your conduct and I think we probably both know why. I told her the truth. You’ve been decent to me even at times when I didn’t really deserve it. I realize that now.”

 

That hadn’t really explained much. “Why would you have such a conversation in the first place?” he replied.

 

“Because I’m tired of fighting,” she answered. “You and I both have jobs to do and it’s a lot more fun doing that job when I’m working with you instead of against you. That was my change of heart and I’m sorry for the part I played.”

 

That was the phrase Kyle had wanted to hear and never thought he actually would. “I’m sorry too,” he said. “It’s hard for me to trust and I know it is hard for others to trust me. I accept that.”

 

“I know you probably don’t trust me any further than you can throw me,” she joked in reply. “I hated you for a long time, especially after Charlotte went into such a tailspin. I blamed you until I realized that it took two people. I feel badly for all the hurt you’ve gone through because I know you’re just trying to do your best.”

 

This, frankly, was extraordinary.

 

“I’m not sure what to say other than thank you,” he replied. “I’ll do everything I can to repay that good faith.”

 

Then came the reason he couldn’t sleep.

 

“I’d like to get to know you better.”

 

# # #

[tenthreeleader]

10 Oct 2015 – Crawley Town (5-2-4, 12^th place) v Oxford United (9-2-0, 1^st place)

Sky Bet League Two Match Day #12 – Broadfield Stadium, Crawley

Referee: Mike Jones

 

It was a good thing there was a match to play the next day. Kyle was processing quite a bit, and had done so until the wee hours the night before.

 

With the implicit understanding that “getting to know” Diana Moore better meant certain marital and probably professional death, Kyle had to simply say “thank you” in response to her rather extraordinary text.

 

To make matters worse, she was quite easy on the eyes. Kyle shook his head sadly, wondered what was going on, knew that it was more than probable that Stacy had put her up to what she had written, and prepared his team for the match to clear his mind.

 

Since that was Kyle’s job, that was a good thing.

 

So it was that when Hoban shook loose between the defenders to rifle home yet another goal seventeen minutes into the match, Kyle suddenly had one hundred percent focus. He had to admit that as the teams had taken the pitch, he wasn’t exactly all there mentally.

 

Hoban had turned his manager’s attention nicely. So did Crawley defender Joe Robinson, who caught the overlapping Skarz with a two-footed horror tackle eight minutes later that gave referee Mike Jones no option but to show a straight red card.

 

The Oxford bench was up and screaming the moment contact was made, but the yelling was hardly necessary since Robinson’s indiscretion was not only obvious, it had occurred within twenty feet of the referee himself. The tackle was as bad as it was stupid, and it was plenty of both.

 

A goal to the good against ten men, Kyle wondered what was to come from his players, and urged them forward to find a second goal that would surely see off the home team.

 

Yet, stung by the dismissal of Robinson, Crawley defended like lions for the next twenty minutes. Hoban, Gnanduillet and MacDonald all came close but nobody was able to add that elusive second goal, until Hoban himself finally retook matters into his own hands.

 

His first-time volley of Skarz’s cross was as pretty to watch as it was important on the scoreboard, and with the score 2-0 at halftime Kyle could congratulate his team on a first-half job well done.

 

“Now go put them away,” he added, before heading into the visiting manager’s office to figure out his plans for the coming week. He didn’t see much in Crawley that was threatening and events of the second half would prove him right.

 

Ten minutes into the half, Oxford had doubled its lead. Callum O’Dowda had started things, sweeping home a rebound from Gnanduillet’s drive just three minutes after the restart.

 

With the match decided, Gnanduillet added insult to injury, making the home team pay once more for being unable to clear its lines in the 55^th minute. Crawley’s defending was now bordering on comical and when Hoban completed his hat trick just seven minutes later, Kyle called off the dogs.

 

“Nothing gets in our net,” he instructed Wright, and Oxford United went into lead-maintenance mode, which they accomplished with almost frightening ease.

 

Twenty-two shots at goal to four. Ten on target to two. 56 percent possession. Five goals. Even a gashed leg suffered by Meades in the second half wasn’t enough to put a real damper on a terrific performance.

 

The Flying Circus was in fine form.

 

Crawley Town 0 (Joe Robinson s/o 25)

Oxford United 5 (Hoban 17, 41, 62, O’Dowda 48, Gnanduillet 55)

H/T: 0-2

A – 2,329, Broadfield Stadium, Crawley

Man of the Match: Patrick Hoban, Oxford (MR 9.6)

 

# # #

[mark wilson27]

Another good win sir, very early in the season but the signs are looking good

[ChileanRanger]

Cain's Law: The better the Us do, the worse Kyle's life goes.

[tenthreeleader]

It can get worse.

____

With Matty Willock on the shelf, Kyle had a bit of a conundrum at the holding midfielder position.

 

Danny Rose was now number one on the depth chart, right ahead of Gallifuoco. Whing could also play the position and so could Skarz, but they both had other responsibilities and since you could time Whing’s 40-meter dash using a sundial, he wasn’t exactly optimal for that spot on the park.

 

The talk that week, of course, was the sterling play of the entire team, which placed O’Dowda, Hoban, Ashdown and all four of the backs – Skarz, Wright, Dunkley and Grandison – in the Team of the Week.

 

Seven honorees was virtually unheard of, and brought the local press trotting out to the training ground for the inevitable softball questions and feel-good pieces. And why not? There was plenty to feel good about.

 

The draw in the Johnstone’s Paint Trophy south quarterfinals was at home to MK Dons, meaning a homecoming for Oxford legend Jim Magilton.

 

The Norn Iron international had 52 caps for his country and 150 appearances for the Us, bagging 34 goals from midfield during the Brian Horton era on the touchline. Magilton was quite popular around the ground even now, and he was sure to get a warm reception from the faithful.

 

Less popular in his home stadium was Bolton’s Steve Davis, shown the door with Wanderers 3-3-5 and only two points above the drop zone in League One. That wasn’t good enough for a team with ambition to return to the Championship on a shoestring, but the hope was that “Psycho” – Stuart Pearce – would be able to do the job in Davis’s place.

 

It was a good week for the team, preparing for a home match, and a crunch clash at that, with fourth-placed Scunthorpe. Winners of five of twelve games, the Iron had only lost twice and that was good enough for twenty points. Mind, that was still twelve behind Oxford, but it was good enough for the playoff places and Kyle had to try hard to instill that truth into his players.

 

Meanwhile, things at home weren’t exactly improving.

 

Stacy did her thing, Kyle did his thing, and Boyd Stokes really wanted to do Kyle’s thing, so to speak. He had actually walked in from training on the Wednesday to hear the two of them talking on the phone, and he waited patiently for them to hang up.

 

“So, I hear you’re poking around my office trying to get my co-workers to rat on me,” he finally said. Her look was one of accusation mixed with genuine shock.

 

“Didn’t you think anyone would tell me?” he asked. “I honestly don’t know what you’re playing at.”

 

“You know I don’t trust you,” she said.

 

“Well, then leave,” Kyle replied. “Just go on. Leave. What’s stopping you?”

 

He knew perfectly well what was stopping her. They both did. Stacy could talk about Owen all she wanted, but she needed Kyle, and not in a physical sense.

 

“I listen to you talking with your boyfriend. That’s what he is, we all know that. You aren’t fooling anyone. So why don’t you let Boyd take care of you?”

 

“I have to worry about Owen,” she said. “I want him looked after as best I can. That means …”

 

“…that means taking advantage of me,” Kyle said. “And you know what? I’m letting you do it, because I want what’s best for Owen too. You seem to want what’s best for you, and if that means dragging me through the mud, that’s what it means, yeah?”

 

“That’s not what I want,” she said.

 

“Seems like an odd way to show it, calling up a co-worker of mine to get the dish on me.”

 

“How did you find out about that?”

 

“How do you think?” Kyle snorted. “My chairman overheard the conversation, and then Diana told me. I heard it from two different people.”

 

“So it’s Diana, is it?”

 

Kyle’s eyes narrowed to slits. “That is her name,” he said evenly. He had always been a dangerous man to goad. “And I’m sure it was Diana to you as well.”

 

Stacy hated the feeling she was having, on more than one level. She wanted out. Kyle wanted out. But for Owen’s sake, they were both staying.

 

Kyle couldn’t afford the bad publicity a messy divorce would bring and Stacy knew it. Stacy wanted Kyle’s income to provide for her and Kyle knew it.

 

Owen was in the middle. The poor kid.

 

Neither of his parents had their acts together.

 

# # #

[ChileanRanger]

And it'll get worse just before a decisive match, I'd wager.

[tenthreeleader]

It can also get better.

___

Miles Booth had had a good start to life as professional footballer. In and out of the first team at Oxford City, he was trying to find his way in Johnson Hippolyte’s first team even as he prepared for the challenge of fatherhood.

 

He had held up fairly well on both counts. He hadn’t scored again since his debut goal for the club but he was playing a decent enough fullback position and was in the matchday squad more than he was out of it.

 

He had also done a decent enough job looking after Jenna to earn Kyle’s favor for a time, and after his act of kindness during Kyle’s road accident, his good graces had lasted.

 

What Miles couldn’t figure out was his future mother-in-law. That in itself wasn’t a surprise – men have failed to figure out mothers-in-law since God invented marriage – but at the same time, her behavior seemed odd.

 

The three of them sat at dinner – Owen was down for a nap – early that Wednesday evening.

 

“I don’t understand,” he had finally said. “Wouldn’t it just be easier to either forgive Kyle or just start over?”

 

“You don’t have a child yet,” Stacy said. “You’ll be amazed what you will do for that baby when you’re a dad. You’ll even stay with someone you don’t want anymore.” Both looked at her with horror.

 

“Not that you two would ever be like that,” she added, quickly and correctly. “I’m sure you two will never get like that.”

 

She didn’t know when to leave well enough alone. “That is, Miles, if you don’t sleep around.”

 

Jenna looked at her mother sharply. “That’s not funny, Mum,” she said. “And don’t try to tell us you didn’t do it too, because we all know you did.”

 

“My point is that you’ll do things for your children that you won’t do for anyone else,” Stacy said, quickly changing the subject.

 

“Maybe you could try doing a few things for Dad too,” Jenna said, in a way surprised that the words had even come out of her mouth.

 

Stacy’s look of surprise, shock and anger was a mixture of blue-eyed fury and resentment. “How dare you,” she began, but to her additional surprise, it was Miles who cut her off this time.

 

“Seriously,” he said, “you should look at yourself in the mirror. Kyle cared enough to stay and to at least try to change. I’ve had my differences with him, but really, what would it hurt to at least try to be kind? You’re making it pretty clear what you want but what harm is there in at least being civil and not going behind the man’s back to have him discredited?”

 

“That’s my business,” she snapped. “And who are you to tell me what I should do? Mind your place.”

 

Miles flared. “My place is with Jenna,” he said, a rare flash of anger passing across his face. “Being a dad to your grandchild.” To Stacy, the maturity was welcome, even if the sudden stick toward her was not.

 

“If you get Dad sacked from his job because Mr. Eales gets tired of all the drama, then what?” Stacy added. “Where would you and Owen be then?”

 

Stacy knew perfectly well. For now the argument was two against one, but when she could make it two against two, she liked her odds a lot better.

 

# # #

[STFCDP1990]

Absolutely loving this story!

[tenthreeleader]

Thankee kindly

___

“The nerve,” she said after they had gone home.

 

“Love, don’t let it worry you,” Boyd said. He had his feet up on his divan, tie loosened, looking every bit like the successful man he knew he’d be before too much longer. He had a lot on his mind. They were talking on the phone and all was right with their worlds. Stacy could complain and have the ultimate sympathetic audience.

 

“I’ve done everything for them,” she snorted. “I mean, everything.” Her repeated emphasis on the word was supposed to make her sound more impressive, but Boyd Stokes really didn’t need Stacy’s language to do that. Her body was enough for him.

 

“You do what a mother should do,” he said. “But when you file, we’ll be together and that will be the important thing. Then you can forget about him.”

 

“Which him?” Stacy asked. At that moment, she was as angry at Miles Booth as she was at her husband.

 

“Take your pick,” Boyd answered. Sometimes his cavalier attitude annoyed Stacy while at other times – such as this one – it was exactly what she needed to hear.

 

“You’re a dream,” she replied. “I’m glad I have you.”

 

“I’m glad I have you too,” he answered. They had met quietly while Kyle was at Crawley with United, and while the papers had talked about “Five-Star Oxford”, the two of them had written a different personal headline more along the lines of … erm … “The Joy of Six.”

 

“I don’t know why I didn’t just do this sooner,” she said.

 

“You know why,” he said, “and even though it hurt for a little while I at least understood it. Point is, we have what we want and sooner or later we’ll have it for real. That’s what matters the most.”

 

“You understand me so well,” Stacy replied, pushing a button on her phone. Miles and Jenna had gone out for the evening and Kyle wasn’t back from training yet so she figured she’d send her lover a surprise.

 

He always reacted well to those kinds of surprises and she waited for his response.

 

“Well? What do you think?” she asked.

 

“About what?”

 

“About the picture I just sent you, silly?”

 

“I don’t have a picture, love,” Boyd said, “though you know I love when you do that.”

 

Stacy frowned and looked at her outbox. “I sent you a topless picture,” she said, and then gasped with horror.

 

In the manager’s office at the ground, Kyle’s phone buzzed. His eyes widened at what he saw.

 

# # #

[JayR2003]

I openly chuckled...

[tenthreeleader]

I suspect that in his heart of hearts, Kyle did too. Right after he punched a wall.

___

17 October 2015 – Oxford United (10-2-0, 1^st place) v Scunthorpe United (5-5-2, 4^th place)

Sky Bet League Two Match Day #13 – The Kassam Stadium, Oxford

Referee: James Linington

 

“Start off every day with a smile and get it over with.” – W.C. Fields

 

He wasn’t even surprised. That was the sad part.

 

Finally, though, Kyle had had enough. Sadly, the Oxford United players were the ones who felt much of Kyle’s wrath, even if indirectly.

 

He had had to go to Eales and tell his chairman the news his boss hadn’t wanted to hear, but once he heard the details, he understood. He filed the next day.

 

So it was that the Iron came to the Kassam to take on mighty Oxford, unbeaten in twelve and in a very bad mood. They were channeling their manager. They also had a five-point lead in the league over second-placed Stevenage, so the Us were feeling their oats a bit for the match.

 

There is something to be said for showing up with a chip on your shoulder but there is quite another thing to be said for letting it affect your performance.

 

In the first half, that’s what happened to a rather petulant Oxford team.

 

Gnanduillet, who had a love-hate history with Kyle, started things off on the wrong foot by selling Jack O’Connell’s tackle a little too hard in the Scunthorpe penalty area. While the crowd behind the goal in the Oxford Mail stand screamed bloody murder, referee James Linington booked the Ivorian for simulation.

 

That didn’t please the manager, who was up and on the prowl only four minutes into the match. His mood didn’t improve when Neal Bishop ran over Gallifuoco like a runaway lorry in 13 minutes, earning the same color card as Gnanduillet had.

 

Wright avenged his teammate a few minutes later, but went over the top in a challenge on Lyle Taylor. He became the third player booked within the first twenty minutes and Kyle now tried to get his team calmed down. Discipline had been compromised and to be fair, the manager was responsible for it.

 

Hoban then scored with a lovely little finish tucked between keeper Jack O’Connell’s left arm and his near post in nineteen minutes only to see the assistant’s flag up for offside. Wrongly, but the flag was up nonetheless, and that made Kyle even more frustrated in response.

 

He waved his arm at the fourth official in annoyance while the crowd, already upset at Gnanduillet’s booking, vented even more of its collective spleen at the perceived raw deal from the men in the black shirts.

 

Following that drama, neither team was anywhere near scoring in the first half as petulance ran headlong into lack of application on both sides of the ball. The only player who appeared to not have completely lost the plot was Rothwell, whose usual steady play helped Oxford keep their visitors at far more than arm’s length until Linington mercifully blew for halftime.

 

“This is my fault,” Kyle admitted, knowing full well that his team’s funk was attributable to the tone set by the boss. “You can still put this right and there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re the better side but really, we need to calm down.”

 

O’Dowda, who had gone into the book shortly before halftime, was the first to agree – not that it was Kyle’s fault, but that there had to be better play hiding somewhere in that room. He liked winning.

 

As the second half began, Oxford began to generate more chances but with less possession, a bit of an oddity for a Kyle Cain-managed team, but the facts were plain.

 

MacDonald had evidently forgotten that part of the team talk which dealt with discipline, earning the team’s fourth card nine minutes after the restart, but all that paled by comparison to Paddy Madden finding space between Dunkley and Wright to lash home past a stranded Ashdown in 58 minutes. The Irishman had done his job to perfection and Oxford now had to chase the game.

 

That was what the visitors needed for more reasons than the merely obvious, as with their advantage in possession, they began to slow the game down.

 

After Madden’s goal, Kyle pulled both his misfiring strikers, removing League Two’s leading goalscorer and his best provider in exchange for Danny Hylton and the youthful ball of energy known as James Roberts, who seemed to have the ability to find goals from out of nowhere.

 

But not today. O’Dowda, for all his industry, had been little better, so off he came for Josh Harrop ten minutes from time.

 

Nothing helped. Angry Oxford became even angrier when its twelve-match unbeaten string in the league came to an ignominious end.

 

Oxford United 0

Scunthorpe United 1 (Paddy Madden 58)

H/T: 0-0

A - 7,773, The Kassam Stadium, Oxford

Man of the Match – Joe Rothwell, Oxford United (MR 8.2)

 

# # #

[tenthreeleader]

“We were due for a bad game, but in the end we got what we deserved.” Kyle’s words were plain.

 

“Just like that?” Vic asked. “Shrug it off like that?”

 

Kyle frowned. “We expect better, of course, but you aren’t going to be able to win every match or play like world-beaters every match.”

 

“First time you’ve been shut out in 28 matches, counting friendlies,” she said. “Back to last year’s York match.”

 

“I hadn’t honestly counted,” he replied. “That’s another wonderful run that ended today, I guess. I did think that Hoban scored and that the flag was wrong but I don’t have any complaints. This was a match we should have won and we didn’t do anything like what we needed to do to win it. That simple.”

 

“So now it’s a homecoming for you. How do you get a rebound out of these players?”

 

Kyle knew full well that a trip to Plainmoor loomed on the horizon – his first trip anywhere near Torquay since his dismissal two seasons before. As angry as his team had appeared at times in this day, it was only going to get worse on the road.

 

“They are professional players and they are accustomed to playing well now,” he answered. “I don’t want the fact that it’s my old club we’re playing to get in the way of doing what we have to do to get a result away from home. I will make that clear to the players this week.”

 

The media gaggle broke up and Vic moved closer. “I heard you finally did it,” she said.

 

“Yes,” he replied. “She really didn’t leave me much choice.”

 

“Well, I won’t pry,” she said.

 

“Good, because I wouldn’t share that sort of thing and I trust you understand that.”

 

The reporter nodded and closed her notebook, shutting off her phone’s recorder.

 

“I know it’s probably going to be very hard for you and your children and Miles and everyone,” Vic said, taking the circuitous route in naming Kyle’s family. “It’s just that … well, if you need to talk, I’m still your friend.”

 

Kyle’s eyes narrowed. “You aren’t supposed to be my friend,” he said. “Isn’t that what you journos always say?”

 

“Yes, it’s what we say,” she said. “But I’m still a human being. And before you ask, Allison is both well and quite happy in her relationship.”

 

Now he scowled. “What makes you think I’d ask?”

 

Vic smiled as she turned to leave. “Because you’re a human being too, Kyle,” she replied.

 

# # #

[MP27]

Poor Kyle - not even a love triangle, becoming more of a love pentagon....

[tenthreeleader]

"If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all..."

___

“I do hate it when she’s right,” Kyle mumbled to himself as he headed to his car. It had been an awful day for a variety of reasons.

 

Stacy had taken about half an hour to move in with Boyd Stokes, and she took Owen with her. That infuriated Kyle but given his situation and all the travel he had to do as manager of his club, it wasn’t like he could provide full-time care for him. He could pay for a nanny service but it hadn’t taken Stacy long to find a judge who would give her what she wanted.

 

Kyle wasn’t sure Stacy wanted Owen. He was, on the other hand, quite sure that she wanted leverage. Now she had it.

 

She knew Kyle was very fond of his son, and as such it wasn’t a difficult thing to guess her strategy. She wasn’t above holding Owen over Kyle’s head to get what she wanted.

 

But she seemed to have what she wanted, which was simply to be away.

 

For Kyle, it was now all about getting ready for the next match, which really meant something to him. The preparations for his return to Plainmoor were quiet and very professional. The squad knew. The coaches knew. This one would be for the gaffer.

 

The news that AFC Wimbledon had sacked Neil Cox after two wins from thirteen matches didn’t come as a surprise. The news that they were considering hiring Michael Appleton, on the other hand, did.

 

The former Oxford boss had done a nice job until the slow start to last season had doomed him in the position and opened the door for Kyle’s return to management. Now he was reportedly getting a shot in London, and he had a job on to save his new club from relegation.

 

The first of the “phoenix clubs”, AFC Wimbledon was of course resurrected after Wimbledon Football Club left for Milton Keynes. Yet now they were finding life hard as a member of the Football League, and Appleton was the board’s likely choice to change their fortunes.

 

Deep down, though, Kyle understood why. Appleton was a good manager, just one who had come acropper as managers often do. The biggest thing that Appleton had failed to do – besides win – was see the talent in James Maddison that Kyle had seen. With Maddy in the mix and playing well, Appleton might well have kept his job, and God only knew what that would have meant for Kyle.

 

Yet that was water under the bridge. The day-after training session had gone surprisingly well. The players, expecting a roasting from the boss they didn’t get, showed up ready to work.

 

They had been due for a bad game, and even their banter on the training ground suggested a group of players who had been given their wake-up call. They took it well.

 

“Look, even I get that teams lose from time to time,” Kyle had told them in their team meeting that morning. “Teams have bad matches, and hopefully that was the last one you’ll have for awhile. But honestly, what I want you thinking about now is how to move past it. I really don’t care that our next match is against my old club and here’s why: every match should have that kind of importance to you. You know where you want to go in this game and you know what’s the only thing that’s going to get you there.”

 

Looks of understanding greeted his words, and that was enough for him. “I think this group of players can do it,” he added. “I thought so yesterday, I think so today and I’ll think so tomorrow. So it’s the first day of the rest of the season, lads, so let’s get to work.”

 

With that, he headed down the tunnel with them to the practice pitch. The Kassam Stadium surface was already starting to show considerable signs of wear so the team was very careful about how it was used. Kyle had asked for, and received, permission from the board to explore re-laying the pitch and he thought about how the surface had started to have an impact on how the team played.

 

But that didn’t matter as the practice pitch was soft, well kept and fairly plush under foot. It also had no stands or seats so it was quite out of the question to be used for anything other than its intended purpose.

 

Assistants put out cones, physios started the players in their daily dynamic stretching exercises, and Kyle watched with rapt attention. He failed to notice Eales standing beside him until it was nearly too late.

 

“Damn, you scared me out of my skin,” Kyle said, turning to face his boss.

 

“Sorry,” the chairman said. “Just thought I’d have a quick word before you got to training.”

 

“Your time is my time,” Kyle replied, watching Gnanduillet starting a series of very gentle stretches.

 

“Don’t get wound up about yesterday,” Eales said. “It’s only one match.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Well, I was worried,” Eales said. “With everything you’re going through, a first loss of the season probably isn’t what you want on your mind on top of everything else.”

 

“I just need to concentrate on a lot of things,” he said, not making a lot of sense but sounding like he did. “There’s a lot on my mind as you know, but I think the players took yesterday as well as can be expected. My job is to not make days like yesterday a habit.”

 

“And we know that,” Eales said. “Just know that if you need time, the club is here to support you. We love the job you’re doing, Kyle, and you need to know that.”

 

Affirmation and success were two things that had eluded Kyle for too much of his career. What Eales was saying was therefore extraordinary to him, and he turned physically to face the chairman.

 

“I really do appreciate those words,” he said evenly.

 

“Managers usually only hear from people when they lose,” Eales said. “You needed to hear from me, after you lost, but in a positive way. Good luck at Torquay. Make them see why we hired you.”

 

With that, Eales left, and Kyle returned to his job.

 

# # #

 

[displaced_seagull]

Continues to be excellent reading, 10-3

[tenthreeleader]

Thank you, sir!

___

It the end, it was all about windows.

 

The Oxford United team coach rolled up to Plainmoor so the equipment managers could unload some of the items the team would need in advance of the match. The players got out to walk the ground, and Kyle was pleased to note it.

 

He himself set foot on the old turf for the first time since his sacking with a measure of satisfaction. But as he did, he saw a new sign above the main gate reading “The Launa Windows Stadium”, as it had been since September of 2014 when he was the boss.

 

The place had been known as Plainmoor since its opening in 1921 but now was something else, as many of the grand old stadia in the English game were now ‘something else’.

 

Yet that was no longer any of Kyle’s concern. The trip south and west had taken just over three hours by coach, plenty of time to think about the team sheet for the next day and to listen to music.

 

His tastes were fairly modern, tending toward the new (and the old) swing, which was occasionally reflected in the club’s pre-match playlists. He tried to be a modern manager and appeal to his players in that way but in general, he got a wide berth when it came to those sorts of things.

 

He walked the turf right along with his players, his headphones snug on his head. Now he was listening to Sinatra, whose “Capitol Years” music had been favored more and more these days. He was getting into the swing, as it were, as the Chairman of the Board performed one of Kyle’s new favorites:

 

 

I Wanna Be Around

Frank Sinatra with the Count Basie Orchestra (1964)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mSonPl1IO9o

 

I want to be around to pick up the pieces

When somebody breaks your heart
Somebody twice as smart as I
Somebody who will swear to be true

Like you used to do with me
Who'll leave you to learn that misery loves company, wait and see

 

I want to be around to see how he does it

When he breaks your heart to bits
Let's see if the puzzle fits, so fine
And that's when I'll discover that revenge is sweet
As I sit there applauding from a front row seat

When somebody breaks your heart like you broke mine

That's when I'll discover that revenge is sweet,
As I sit there applauding from a front row seat,
When somebody breaks your heart like you broke mine,
Like you, like you broke mine.

 

Kyle’s problem was that he didn’t know who Frank should sing the song to. It was a very annoying problem to have, but he had choices.

 

It could have been Allison. It could have been Stacy. It could even have been Charlotte, in an odd sort of way. She, like the rest of them, had moved on from him.

 

At that point in life, football, Owen and Jenna were all that mattered to Kyle. That was just fine with him.

 

He walked underneath the main stand and all the familiar things came back to him. Left to the home changing area, right to the visitors’. Club offices to the far side of the stand. Now the Launa Windows logo appeared in a few more places along the walls as part of the sponsorship deal, but the place still brought back the same bad memories.

 

Revenge was certainly on his mind. Erasing those memories was more important.

 

He passed the home dressing room and had to resist the temptation to step inside. But that wasn’t his home any more.

 

# # #

 

[tenthreeleader]

20 October 2015 – Torquay United (4-0-9, 21^st place) v Oxford United (10-2-1, 1^st place)

Sky Bet League Two Match Day #14 – Plainmoor, Torquay

Referee: Kevin Wright

 

AFC Wimbledon did indeed hire Michael Appleton, so the former Oxford United manager was back into employment. The former Torquay United manager got off the coach that morning looking for the same thing Appleton surely would have been – simple redemption.

 

At the team breakfast, Kyle tried to make the day “just another match”. But nobody believed him. The players knew. The staff knew. They would have to have been idiots not to know. It was all about the three points.

 

“You can do this,” he had told them. “They’re fourth bottom of the league. You’re top. You have the chance to put a real hurt on these boys today if you’ll just believe that you can. From what I’ve seen from you to this point, you’re more than capable of this.”

 

Chris Hargreaves had succeeded Kyle as boss and had gotten United promoted after Kyle had failed to keep them in League Two. So he was quite popular in Devon as result, even if he was finding some of the same issues in the Football League that Kyle had.

 

He hadn’t expected a warm reception from the Torquay faithful and he was right. They grumbled at first, and when the match started, many of them were openly hostile when Kyle got off the bench and walked to the touchline. Old memories, and old failures, die hard.

 

One of those issues Hargreaves hadn’t quite learned to deal with was his players’ inability to keep the ball out of their goal, so Kyle was happy to see Hoban involved in the match early. The Irishman’s header forced George Willis into a decent save only four minutes into the match.

 

He was happier for Will Hoskins. Taking a back seat to Gnanduillet had rankled on Oxford’s third hitman, so when he opened the scoring with a perfectly taken set piece from twenty yards ten minutes into the match, item one on the list of “things to do today” was in the books. Oxford led away and looked very good value for their start. That was the best way to handle the boobirds.

 

It was the third goal of the campaign for Hoskins and the lead lasted exactly five minutes. Grandison gave away a foul about thirty yards from goal on the right, with Courtney Cameron’s cross finding Ryan Bowman unmarked. He headed past Ryan Clarke and the match was level.

 

That was the worst way to handle the boobirds. Kyle shook his head sadly and watched his team go back to work against a newly-resurgent Torquay.

 

To their credit, they kept their bottle and got their heads down. The team, having played just a few days before, wasn’t exactly a first-choice eleven in the eyes of the so-called experts, but those players out there had duties to the shirt which weren’t exactly being fulfilled.

 

One was the teenager, Sukar. Kyle had been dying to give the former Sunderland man a run in the first team but the sustained strong play of Dunkley and Wright had nailed the Egyptian to the u-21 team, where he played like a man against boys. This was his chance, but Sukar had been culpable on Bowman’s goal.

 

Now, though, Sukar was playing alongside his tutor, Wright. The older man and club captain had a quiet word with his protégé and the two went back to work. Oxford looked brighter and the better team, and it paid off just before half. Whing’s ball to the right edge of the penalty area found Grandison with some purpose in his eyes, and it was Courtney Cameron who did the deed, pulling Grandison off the ball with a shirt pull referee Kevin Friend saw with an excellent view. He pointed to the spot and Hoskins converted with the last kick of the first half.

 

That got everyone to the changing room in a good mood, which Kyle did nothing to dissuade. Fazackerley spoke with the defenders about Bowman finding so much space, while Kyle talked briefly with the attackers before leaving the rest of the halftime team talk to his assistant.

 

Kyle went for a pace outside the visitors’ door – he had been known for talking walks while Torquay’s boss – and as such, he almost felt at home.

 

Unfortunately, once the second half started, he felt at home in more than one way. Oxford, which had played so well for most of the first half, came out sputtering in the second. For some reason Hoban wasn’t into the match, and Kyle couldn’t figure out why. Anyone was due for a bad game and Hoban had been the first name on the team sheet for most of the last month due to his goalscoring prowess, but today was not his day and Kyle pulled him ten minutes after the restart.

 

Hylton’s introduction raised a few eyebrows, but Hoban didn’t even look like he wanted to be out there so Kyle made sure he wasn’t.

 

That was the discretionary substitution. The second one wasn’t, as Hoskins went down under a crunching challenge from Daniel O’Shaunessy and couldn’t continue.

 

So off came Hoskins for O’Dowda, and Kyle dropped the team to 4-2-3-1 with a lead to protect. The lead lasted exactly six minutes, as Kasheme Walton converted a lead ball from Matt Crooks to level the scores in 66 minutes.

 

Sometimes the other guy just makes a great play, and that great play made Kyle a target again from the home fans. Some stick was to be expected, but Kyle had never been known as a good man to goad, and as a result his ire grew hotter and hotter the longer the match passed without an Oxford reply.

 

But the Us were a tired team. Having just played three days earlier, there wasn’t as much in the tank as there had been in previous weeks, and even the introduction of Skarz for fresh legs and some skill in the 75^th minute wasn’t enough to find a deciding goal.

 

The whistle went and Kyle left Plainmoor the same way he had done the last time he was there – without a win for his team.

 

Torquay United 2 (Ryan Bowman 15, Kasheme Walton 66)

Oxford United 2 (Hoskins 10, pen 45+3)
H/T: 1-2

A – 2,196, Plainmoor, Torquay

Man of the Match: Will Hoskins, Oxford (MR 8.6)

 

# # #

[tenthreeleader]

“I would have loved to win today, of course.”

 In a way Kyle was glad to see Churchill covering the team on that day, because he expected the older man would ask the kinds of questions that would allow the manager to bare his soul.

 He didn’t disappoint. “Did you hear the chanting?” he asked.

 “I did,” Kyle responded immediately. Some of the more strident Torquay supporters had started up with the ever-popular “Wings of a Sparrow” chant followed by, simply, “you’re not good enough”.

 “Not the best way to be welcomed home, is it?”

 Kyle gave a little sideways smile in reply. “They’re entitled to say what they want,” he said. “I’m sure they were happy. Maybe they’ll stay up this time.”

 Now that was a challenge. “Elaborate?” Churchill immediately asked.

 “It’s not about names,” Kyle said, his smile growing wider. “They’re learning about life in the Football League again and good for them. I do hope it goes better for them this time. I know it’s going better for me than it did last time.”

 It had felt good to say, but Kyle wanted to say it after a win.

 Spite didn’t become him, and he headed off to the visitors changing room a pretty sullen character. Still, his team had earned a point and had held onto the league lead so it was far from a total loss.

 “Keep thinking that,” he reminded himself as he cleared his things into his carry bag in the visiting manager’s office. There was, obviously, no offer of post-match refreshment from his former employers, not that Kyle would have accepted.

 The team filed onto the coach and soon they were on the long slog back to Oxfordshire, the southwest left far behind them. The team was fairly quiet – they knew full well that the boss had wanted three points and these men hadn’t got them – but on the whole the mood was decent.

 They were a good side for this league and they knew it, so they knew that one bad match wasn’t going to cause trouble for them on the training pitch – but still, Kyle had wanted this game for them as well as for himself, and nobody in blue and gold was going home happy.

 As the team coach rolled northeastward, Kyle got a text from Jenna, who said she was going to spend the night at Miles’ place. Stacy was out of the house, and Owen was with her. A sense of anger rose up in Kyle as he thought of Boyd Stokes cozying up to the little guy, which eventually gave way to a sense of helpless frustration.

 Things were going well on the pitch, but really, nowhere else. He was going to an empty house because nobody else who lived in it wanted to be with him.

 Such is life. He wanted to watch video of the match anyway, and it would be better for him if he weren’t bothered.

 And with York City coming up in a few days at home, Kyle wanted to see a more consistent performance from his players anyway. That process began at home, alone, when everyone else was out having fun.

 # # #

 

[tenthreeleader]

24 October 2015 – Oxford United (10-3-1, 1^st place) v York City (6-4-4, 8^th place)

Sky Bet League Two Match Day #15 – The Kassam Stadium, Oxford

Referee: Chris Kavanagh

 

Before the match started, the table looked uncomfortably tight. Oxford had earned 33 of a possible 42 points to date but only led Stevenage by two and Burton by four as the Minstermen arrived at the Kassam Stadium.

 

League Two was beginning to stratify – both at top and bottom. Wimbledon and Eastleigh were already in jeopardy, but Luton threatened to join them – no skin off the nose of any United fan, to be sure.

 

On the other side, Oxford, Stevenage, Burton, Walsall and Accrington had pulled away from the rest of the pack and were threatening to set themselves apart from the league before All Hallows Eve. It was therefore more important than usual to get a home result against a higher-mid-table team.

 

Kyle had actually spent two days by himself, as Jenna had spent the next night with Miles as well after school. Oxford City had the Saturday off, which was a rarity, but hosted Alfreton on the Tuesday following.

 

As a result, both of them were in the stand to watch Kyle’s team face the visitors from North Yorkshire. Danny Rose, ever eager, was in the eleven right in the heart of midfield and damned if he didn’t have the ball past Jonathan Miles before two minutes were on the clock.

 

He seemed to rise to the occasion – though he was nowhere close to the top of the pecking order in ability, and surely nowhere near Rothwell, Willock, Ashby or most anyone else Kyle could put in the center of midfield, but he just found a way.

 

Perhaps there was something to that, Kyle thought, as play resumed with the Us the freshly-anointed leaders.

 

Forced to chase the game within the first five minutes, York was ripe for any sort of counter attack Kyle’s team wished to make. But the problem with that idea was that Oxford wouldn’t let them have the ball in the first place.

 

The first half was a masterclass of possession, something Kyle’s teams didn’t ordinarily do with great skill. They liked to be on the ball, of course, but when the time came to get the job done, they preferred their victims killed quickly rather than deliberately. This was actually a detriment at times when games or halves needed killing off rather than pedal-to-the-metal attack.

 

But at half the score remained the same and Kyle was well pleased. He even told his players so, which made them wonder if someone had kidnapped the gaffer and replaced him with someone who simply looked like him.

 

The spectacularly ineffective full back Ilias Polimos was sacrificed at halftime (not literally) by York boss Dave Jones in favor of striker Jake Hyde as York looked for a way to increase their total of shots on target, which at halftime stood at zero.

 

Anything would have been an improvement, in other words. It worked almost right away, as Hyde forced Ashdown out of somnambulance and into action from twenty yards, but the keeper collected comfortably and started play the other way.

 

Once he did, the one-way traffic of the first half resumed. And this time, Oxford turned up the heat to the point where they were irresistible.

 

O’Dowda was responsible for that, but he had a lot of help from York’s entire back line. Grandison started it, with a cross from the right to Gnanduillet just inside the penalty area. He headed the ball to the right for MacDonald’s run, and the Scot crossed to the left. There he had his choice between O’Dowda and Hoban, because both central defenders had completely switched off. Both players were onside and facing two men in his six-yard box, Miles had no chance. O’Dowda finished for two-nil.

 

Not to be outdone, Hoban found his way to the back of the net two minutes later, finishing coolly from eighteen yards when the defense dropped back too far into the box. They gave him room, and Hoban didn’t miss, his 13^th goal of the season ending the game for practical matters.

 

Gnanduillet went off in favor of Hoskins after taking a knock ten minutes from time. Last season’s leading scorer forced Miles into a point-blank save in 86 minutes, but the keeper could only parry Hoskins’ rocket to his left, where O’Dowda found it near the byline. Miles had done wonderfully to that point but he had no chance when the winger’s pullback again found Oxford players in space within the six-yard box. The defending was horrible, and Hoban was again the beneficiary.

 

By this point it was like stealing. Kyle called off the dogs and a few minutes later the smoke had cleared. Dave Jones might have sacrificed one defender at halftime but by the time Chris Kavanagh blew the final whistle, he might have had a few other names in mind as well.

 

Oxford United 4 (Rose 2, O’Dowda 57, Hoban 62, 86)
York City 0

H/T: 1-0

A – 7,429, Kassam Stadium, Oxford

Man of the Match: Patrick Hoban, Oxford (MR 8.8)

 

# # #