Home of the Shouting Men
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- May 25, 2010
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The rain poured down the windows of my office, a half empty packet of paracetomal with the two layers, one empty, the other with only one missing, bundled on top of the case. I had needed them. The room was now only have lit, the lamp on my desk the sole source of light. I had been working here for the last nine years of my life, the memories scarred my brain, as a single tear left my eye.
A box with all my possessions was lying on the desk. I picked up the paracetomal, took one of the small capsules out and emptied it into my mouth. A shudder went down my back as the capsule forced its way down my throat. I went over to my trophy cabinet, so many memories were here in this large cabinet. A League Two Manager of the Month on the bottom shelf, with five League One manager of the months, a few championship and premiership ones were also in there. The shelf above held all the Manager of the Year Awards. Above that my minor and major medallions from Cup and League victories, League Two, League One, Championship, Premiership Carling Cup, League Cup, FA Cup and even the legendary ECC. I had had this trophy cabinet installed on my first day. I remember it well, meeting the players, most of who were out of the door rather soon afterwards.
My wife always said I was addicted to the job that it was taking over my life. But my job was my life... That is probably why she left me.
She had a point, I got too fixated into it. I realise now that now that I am about to leave my office, they said they would send me the trophy cabinet; I had nothing to do, no hobby, nothing. Football was my life, it had been when I was little, when I was at my first football match was the first time I felt at home, God that sounds cheesy. Then again it’s the truth.
I turned of the light of the lamp on the desk, picked up the box, it was incredibly heavy, and walked out the door, turning one last time into the near pitch black office. I left, the longer I stayed the harder it would be to go. I walked into the carp park, packed the car, and left the Gillespie Stadium for the very last time, as I left through the gates there were flashing lights outside from Press Photographers, I knew I would get to read all about it in my copy of the Sun tomorrow.
Gillingham Football Club was my life, and has been for nine years – what a journey that was and how the mighty fell.
A box with all my possessions was lying on the desk. I picked up the paracetomal, took one of the small capsules out and emptied it into my mouth. A shudder went down my back as the capsule forced its way down my throat. I went over to my trophy cabinet, so many memories were here in this large cabinet. A League Two Manager of the Month on the bottom shelf, with five League One manager of the months, a few championship and premiership ones were also in there. The shelf above held all the Manager of the Year Awards. Above that my minor and major medallions from Cup and League victories, League Two, League One, Championship, Premiership Carling Cup, League Cup, FA Cup and even the legendary ECC. I had had this trophy cabinet installed on my first day. I remember it well, meeting the players, most of who were out of the door rather soon afterwards.
My wife always said I was addicted to the job that it was taking over my life. But my job was my life... That is probably why she left me.
She had a point, I got too fixated into it. I realise now that now that I am about to leave my office, they said they would send me the trophy cabinet; I had nothing to do, no hobby, nothing. Football was my life, it had been when I was little, when I was at my first football match was the first time I felt at home, God that sounds cheesy. Then again it’s the truth.
I turned of the light of the lamp on the desk, picked up the box, it was incredibly heavy, and walked out the door, turning one last time into the near pitch black office. I left, the longer I stayed the harder it would be to go. I walked into the carp park, packed the car, and left the Gillespie Stadium for the very last time, as I left through the gates there were flashing lights outside from Press Photographers, I knew I would get to read all about it in my copy of the Sun tomorrow.
Gillingham Football Club was my life, and has been for nine years – what a journey that was and how the mighty fell.