"FRANK WEST NAMED AS NEW SEAGULLS BOSS"
5 July, 2011
As I saw my name on the front page of the local papers, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Here I was, 30 years old, in my first ever managing job. Sure, it wasn't exactly Barcelona, but everyone starts somewhere. We can't all be Pep Guardiola after all.
Before we begin, allow me to set the scene. I was never really into sports as a young lad, since I spent the first 9 years of my life in the Valleys, there wasn't much there but sheep. But once we moved, growing up in Manchester meant that football dominated everything. Not a day could go by without a dust-up in the playground about whether United or City were better. Of course sometimes you'd get the odd Bury fan, or a Blackburn supporter, especially after they won the league in the 1994-5 season, but it was usually a clash between Red and Blue. I tried my best to avoid being sucked into this world of greed and corruption, but once I hit secondary that all began to change. I met a girl, Amy I think her name was (it's been a while), and in order to impress her I tried to get a place on the school football team, seeing as that was what the cool kids were doing. Luckily for me, I seemed to be gifted with a natural talent, and eventually found myself slotted in as a left-back. Unfortunately things didn't really work out between me and Amy, but that didn't matter any more. Playing football had brought me newfound confidence, before then I hadn't really had many friends and spent most of my time in the playground sat by the fence playing on my Game Boy. Video games were still very much a passion of mine, but training for the school team meant I had less time for them.
Once I left school, I found myself signed up to the Academy at Bury, just as they'd got themselves promoted to the Championship for the first time in 30 years. I played in the youth squad pretty much until we ended up unceremoniously dumped out of the Championship on goals scored in 1999 (funnily enough, that was the last year that ever happened). Apparently Neil Warnock had expressed interest in bringing me over to Sheffield United but I wasn't having any of it, not after what he'd done to our club. I'm not saying he's a bad manager, but I wasn't prepared to betray my home-town, especially for the man who got our home team relegated.
Unfortunately, things just didn't work out at Bury FC, and at the age of 22, after being a benchwarmer for the past 3 seasons I called it quits and refused to renew my contract, heading off way down the pecking order to my other local team, Radcliffe Borough, where I was practically guaranteed a place in the first-team squad.
Things went much better at the Boro, and I became the go-to man for their defensive needs. Many a goal was cleared off the line thanks to my right foot, and I even netted a few myself in the 5 years I played there. By this time I was married, without kids, and my wife Cheryl would often come to home games to cheer me on despite the club's relatively low status in the football hierarchy. But all that came to an end after I tore my anterior cruciate ligament in training one day. In retrospect I should prepared for that tackle. But that's just the way things go, isn't it?
After 6 long months of physio, I decided it just wasn't worth going back to the Boro, I was badly out of practice and there was no way I'd be fit for the start of the season. I was offered the position of Radcliffe Borough Juniors instead, since I wasn't in the shape to coach. '****, why not,' I thought, signing the documents that would eventually lead to my current position.
Things went well, even though the youth ground was just the local park and we had to clean up after inconsiderate dog owners every match. Those kids were determined, I'll give them that, not once did they complain about the pitch, and I got **** close to winning the Junior Cup one time, losing out on penalties to Trafford Juniors. I was happy where I was, even though there wasn't really much in it for me, until the summer of 2011. Then reports came in of the sacking of Colwyn Bay boss Dave Challinor after he'd been found guilty of tax evasion (which was odd considering that Colwyn Bay isn't exactly a money-spinner), and our chairman Bernard Manning (no relation, at least not as far as I know) forwarded my name after seeing the remarkable progress I'd made in charge of the Juniors. And so, after some turbulent times in the world of lower-league football, I was off to North Wales, which made things a little more convenient for my extended family, who'd relocated to Bangor by this point, since I could visit more often (well, in theory, anyway, managing's a busy job you know!).
First things first, I got myself acquainted with the staff (there weren't many though) and players (which there were plenty of). They all thought it was ironic a former Radcliffe Borough player would come to the club considering they completely demoralised us in the 2009/2010 season, but that was water under the bridge as far as I was concerned, and besides, my Welsh heritage meant I had a natural affinity with the club. During our first club meeting I made my ambitions clear.
"My aim, as the new manager of Colwyn Bay," I said to the staff, "is to make Wales the world's greatest football nation!" If there had been a sizable amount of staff, I'm sure the applause would've been rapturous, but even so I felt a glow of pride as the lone journalist for the local paper and my new chairman Bob Paten began clapping. This would be the start of a long and arduous journey that would, I hoped, carve me a place in Welsh footballing history.
I'm also busy with a save where I'm managing Leicester, and of course there are other things I have to do in life, but I'm hoping I can update this regularly, probably not daily but hopefully enough to keep readers interested.
5 July, 2011
As I saw my name on the front page of the local papers, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Here I was, 30 years old, in my first ever managing job. Sure, it wasn't exactly Barcelona, but everyone starts somewhere. We can't all be Pep Guardiola after all.
Before we begin, allow me to set the scene. I was never really into sports as a young lad, since I spent the first 9 years of my life in the Valleys, there wasn't much there but sheep. But once we moved, growing up in Manchester meant that football dominated everything. Not a day could go by without a dust-up in the playground about whether United or City were better. Of course sometimes you'd get the odd Bury fan, or a Blackburn supporter, especially after they won the league in the 1994-5 season, but it was usually a clash between Red and Blue. I tried my best to avoid being sucked into this world of greed and corruption, but once I hit secondary that all began to change. I met a girl, Amy I think her name was (it's been a while), and in order to impress her I tried to get a place on the school football team, seeing as that was what the cool kids were doing. Luckily for me, I seemed to be gifted with a natural talent, and eventually found myself slotted in as a left-back. Unfortunately things didn't really work out between me and Amy, but that didn't matter any more. Playing football had brought me newfound confidence, before then I hadn't really had many friends and spent most of my time in the playground sat by the fence playing on my Game Boy. Video games were still very much a passion of mine, but training for the school team meant I had less time for them.
Once I left school, I found myself signed up to the Academy at Bury, just as they'd got themselves promoted to the Championship for the first time in 30 years. I played in the youth squad pretty much until we ended up unceremoniously dumped out of the Championship on goals scored in 1999 (funnily enough, that was the last year that ever happened). Apparently Neil Warnock had expressed interest in bringing me over to Sheffield United but I wasn't having any of it, not after what he'd done to our club. I'm not saying he's a bad manager, but I wasn't prepared to betray my home-town, especially for the man who got our home team relegated.
Unfortunately, things just didn't work out at Bury FC, and at the age of 22, after being a benchwarmer for the past 3 seasons I called it quits and refused to renew my contract, heading off way down the pecking order to my other local team, Radcliffe Borough, where I was practically guaranteed a place in the first-team squad.
Things went much better at the Boro, and I became the go-to man for their defensive needs. Many a goal was cleared off the line thanks to my right foot, and I even netted a few myself in the 5 years I played there. By this time I was married, without kids, and my wife Cheryl would often come to home games to cheer me on despite the club's relatively low status in the football hierarchy. But all that came to an end after I tore my anterior cruciate ligament in training one day. In retrospect I should prepared for that tackle. But that's just the way things go, isn't it?
After 6 long months of physio, I decided it just wasn't worth going back to the Boro, I was badly out of practice and there was no way I'd be fit for the start of the season. I was offered the position of Radcliffe Borough Juniors instead, since I wasn't in the shape to coach. '****, why not,' I thought, signing the documents that would eventually lead to my current position.
Things went well, even though the youth ground was just the local park and we had to clean up after inconsiderate dog owners every match. Those kids were determined, I'll give them that, not once did they complain about the pitch, and I got **** close to winning the Junior Cup one time, losing out on penalties to Trafford Juniors. I was happy where I was, even though there wasn't really much in it for me, until the summer of 2011. Then reports came in of the sacking of Colwyn Bay boss Dave Challinor after he'd been found guilty of tax evasion (which was odd considering that Colwyn Bay isn't exactly a money-spinner), and our chairman Bernard Manning (no relation, at least not as far as I know) forwarded my name after seeing the remarkable progress I'd made in charge of the Juniors. And so, after some turbulent times in the world of lower-league football, I was off to North Wales, which made things a little more convenient for my extended family, who'd relocated to Bangor by this point, since I could visit more often (well, in theory, anyway, managing's a busy job you know!).
First things first, I got myself acquainted with the staff (there weren't many though) and players (which there were plenty of). They all thought it was ironic a former Radcliffe Borough player would come to the club considering they completely demoralised us in the 2009/2010 season, but that was water under the bridge as far as I was concerned, and besides, my Welsh heritage meant I had a natural affinity with the club. During our first club meeting I made my ambitions clear.
"My aim, as the new manager of Colwyn Bay," I said to the staff, "is to make Wales the world's greatest football nation!" If there had been a sizable amount of staff, I'm sure the applause would've been rapturous, but even so I felt a glow of pride as the lone journalist for the local paper and my new chairman Bob Paten began clapping. This would be the start of a long and arduous journey that would, I hoped, carve me a place in Welsh footballing history.
I'm also busy with a save where I'm managing Leicester, and of course there are other things I have to do in life, but I'm hoping I can update this regularly, probably not daily but hopefully enough to keep readers interested.
