Managing by the hand of God

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Znik

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Prelude
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I raced past the last defender. There was noone but the goalkeeper to beat. Now for the pass....
My teammate chipped it horribly high, and the keeper would surely just come to claim it. There was nothing I could do... or was there? In a flash, I saw it all perfectly clear. I raced towards the ball and leapt as high as I could, stretching my whole body to get to the ball first. I felt the soft touch of the ball. What had I just done....


I woke up as a flash of bright light hit my eyes. The sun had finally made its way past the palm tree that had provided some shade. I raised my hand towards the light, shading my eyes. My hand.... who would have thought that this hand would be my legacy. How could this small hand overshadow the genius I had shown on the pitch that day.

I lowered my hand again. But what if I could change that? Is this all that I have for people to remember me by? Drugs, magic and a left hand? I could still remember mr. Pozzo's words from our meeting at the FIFA dinner. "Let me know if you decide you still have something to give".

After the rehab, after losing weight and getting back into shape, I did feel better than ever. I had the energy to do more than just survive. My past now only entered my dreams, not every moment of my life. Perhaps it was time to go to that meeting after all.....


 
The meeting


I stepped into the large square office. The enormous windows in the back showed the whole inside of the modern stadium. That dark green grass sure looked tempting, if only I were 20 years younger...
The Pozzo's greeted me with warmth and addressed me in Italian:

"We're so glad you decided to join us here today. You've given our proposal a bit of thought, yes?"

"I have. And I've decided that I am finally ready to get back into football. I still have a lot to give, and I feel better than ever. After my last managerial period, I felt that I had more to prove, and I'm keen to do it for the two of you. So, I'll be blunt and get straight to it, Italy or Spain? What would be my option? I'm fluent in Spanish, so there should be no difficulties there, and I'm more than well know in Italy, so I'm sure to create a lot of excitement if I could manage there."

Father and son Pozzo exchanged a look which I was puzzled by. They almost smirked at my question. Perhaps I had been too blunt, but if they didn't want blunt, they wouldn't have contacted me, would they?

"Well, in fact, we are not going to offer you a job in Italy or in Spain."

"Then, what am I doing here? Is this just another publicity stunt, because I'm not here to play your media games"

"We are here to offer you a job in England"

England? I thought to myself. I have had to live with the memories of England for so many years, but there seems to be no way to stop that damned country from coming back and haunting me, time and time again. But I am stronger now. Maybe it is time to face my demons.

"I am listening."

"As you may know, I am in charge of Udinese and Granada, but my son here, has been in charge of Watford in England for a couple of years now. We have finally made our way into the top division, but only thanks to our contributions of players from the other two teams. Our former manager, Jokanovic, was a greedy *******, who only cared about the money. And to be frank, my grandmother could have managed this squad to promotion. So now, the team has no manager. We want you to take charge, and lead the team in the Premier League. We believe there is more than enough quality in the team to do more than just avoid relegation, but will provide you with enough funds to build a team that can establish itself in the top division."

"So, what is the catch."

"Ah yes, always the sceptic. Well, we have to admit, there is one key point to us wanting to hire you. After Jokanovic left, a lot of his backroom staff also left. At the moment, we have no scouts at the club, and we will probably not have anyone of quality ready to work before the end of the transfer window. This means we need your knowledge of the South American scene. We have a vision to make Watford a club that can bring in talent from South America cheaply, and develop to become a top European club within a few seasons."

"So, I will be the manager, the director of football, the chief scout and the head of development? Have you planned on giving me the wages of 4 jobs?"

"Well, you are more than welcome to bring in your own backroom staff, as long as you stick to our philosophy of bringing in youth that can develop in the first team."

"I have already got a few names that I think will fit well. I have only one condition. I have full freedom of playing attacking football, and handling the attacking coaching myself."

"We wouldn't have approached you if we didn't want attacking football. It's a pleasure to have you on board Diego. Now about that salary....."


The negotiations were fairly straightforward. I wanted the job. They wanted to give me the job. Now I would only have to head home to prepare for the press conference tomorrow. And I have a feeling that that won't be too straightforward.....
 
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The first week.

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The first week
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After arriving in England, and deciding that to find a nice spot in central London would be close enough to travel out to Watford for work, I quickly settled in at the training ground. The first team squad were a bit of an odd bunch. Some Italians, some Englishmen and a lot of other nationalities made up a fairly balanced squad.

After my press-conference, which sent the whole isle into shock, I finally got to go back to what I enjoy most, playing football. However, even if I enjoy working in football, this first week has shown me, that I don't quite enjoy working with footballers. Something which was made farly evident after my first training session at the club.

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I entered the training pitch wearing my old, classic black football shoes. The boys were just playing around, firing shots and doing keep-ups, but I quickly spotted a small left-footed guy with bright orange boots. He was lining up to take a free-kick against that wack-job Gomes in goal. I walked over, just as he blasted the ball approximately 7.6 metres high. In anger, he grabbed another ball. Took 3 steps back, and smashed it 8 metres wide.
Gomes gave a big grin, showing his glowing tooth-protector. I grabbed a ball, lay it down, and curled it off the bar and in. Gomes looked shocked. The left-footed guy grabbed a third ball. He looked focused. After only two steps back, he curled a loose ball which was heading for the middle of the net. Gomes lazily put his hands up, but somehow knocked the ball off his own face, and into the back of the net.

The tiny shooter ran over, celebrating. I turned my back, took out my notebook and walked away. On my way over to the other guys, I quickly scribbled down: Transfer list.....I left a lot of space beneath that headline before turning the page to write Transfer targets: New Goalkeeper on the top of the page. I also left the rest of the page blank.

At the end of the training session I immediately regretted the notes I'd done earlier. What was I thinking.... I had only left a single page open in each category. Halfway through the session, I had filled out most of my notebook. After leaving the guys with a pep talk of my expectations for the season. A big strong English striker, Troy Deeney, who it seems is the leader in the group, was very pleased to hear that I aimed higher than just fighting relegation. The boys were generally in a buoyant mood, it's a shame that so many of them won't be here to help us achieve that....

After changing, I headed up to the chairman's office. I knocked once, and instantly stepped in. The chairman looked at me with a slightly puzzled look. I brought out my notebook and turned to the first page. "Gino, we need to talk....."
 
Changes

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What a difference a week makes.

​
Two weeks into my managerial career at Watford, and things are looking brighter. My conversation with Gino Pozzo went very well. He made it clear that he would support my clearout, and help me bring in what I needed to make us a competitive team.

A week of unpleasent conversations mixed with successful negotiations has left me exhausted. At least I got confirmation that my name is still worth something in the footballing world, I highly doubt I would have achieved what I have without the status I still hold.

My first conversation was to an old aquaintance of mine, my Brazil rival Felipe Scolari, now at Guangzhou. I didn't have too pleasant news for him.

"Hello Felipe, Diego here. I've got some sad news for you. I've decided to send Alessandro Diamanti back to China. We've decided that he's not a player we can use in our squad this season."

"What?!?!? He's been there for ONE day. Have you even seen him play? We've already replaced him here, that would mean that he's sitting in the reserves for the whole season."

"I have seen him in practice... It was enough. He's already on the plane, so you better send someone to pick him up in the morning. Perhaps someone that can handle a bit of abuse, he wasn't too pleased about it..."

"You are insane Diego! I will make sure to spread word of how you handle business. Your unprofessional behaviour here will cost you. There is no way you will ever make business among my contacts again."

He hung up.... Well that went well.... I guess I better get on the phone to my South American contacts quick.


The next day, I was halfway across the Atlantic, heading towards Buenos Aires. I had managed to negotiate a deal with a new Head of Youth Development, some Englishman called Phil Cannon. I liked his name, so the deal was an easy one to accept. I quickly sent him off to Europe to find me a new goalkeeper, preferably someone young with an offensive attitude. In addition, I'd managed to find a scout called Sabino Martiradonna. With a name like that, how could I not hire him? On the reccomendation of Gino Pozzo, I'd sent him off to Scandinavia to try to find some cheap talent. Perhaps he could uncover the next Zlatan Ibrahimovic. A player that I could almost admit had an acceptable playing style.

My own job was simple. Quickly abuse my status and contacts in South America to snap up talents before other teams could send their scouts over. I had already arranged a meeting with an old friend of mine, Rodolfo Arruabarrena, who just happened to be the manager of Boca Juniors, my old club. He might not be too pleased with my intentions, however.


5 minutes into our meeting, I feared my friendship with Rodolfo was over. He didn't take my proposition too well. Well, what manager would, if told that you intend to steal 6 of his first team players. I had anticipated his reaction, and brought out my trump card.... a bottle of Fernet Branca....

One bottle later, after a lot of memories from 1994 had been rekindled, we'd come to a compromise. A deal for 3 of his players. In exchange, I had to commit to negotiate deals for 3 other big players from Boca's rivals. Rodolfo had given me a long list of who he considered the best rival players in the league... Who would have known that a bottle of Fernet was as good as hiring a bunch of scouts? I also noticed that, by mistake, Rodolfo had written down several names of players from the Brazilian league. Perhaps these were targets he'd hoped to secure himself? Of course, no true friend would abuse information acquired in such an dishonest way....

Later that week, I was back in England to announce 5 new signings from South America. All players that none of the English journalists had heard of, and I could already read speculations about my future in the papers. However, I knew better. These were players that would make major improvements to our squad, and would probably be starting most of our games. True to my word, I had attempted to negotiate deals with Boca's rivals, but it seemed scouts from other teams had gotten sniff of these players too, and we lost out on 2 targets. However, these are the new additions to the Hornets' squad:

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Gino Peruzzi is a classic South-American wing-back. He's eager to get forward, and has already been capped for Argentina. I'm delighted to have him as competition for Nyom and Holebas, who are our current fullbacks.

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Jonathan Calleri is a classic poacher. A strong and clever fox in the box, who I am sure can find the net, even at this level. He reminds me a bit of Claudio Caniggia, who I loved playing with, because you knew he would always be at the end of your passes.

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Behind every Maradona, you need a Sergio Batista. And our Batista will be Marcelo Meli. A no-nonsense type of midfielder, with a work-ethic that a player of my talent wouldn't need, but a team always needs. Meli will make sure that there is room for our main playmaker, Jurado, to thrive.

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Top of Rodolfo's list of targets was a Brazilian named Gabriel Barbosa. I didn't know of him, but on my way back from Argentina, I flew to Sao Paulo to take a look. On the plane, I saw a couple of videos on youtube, and quickly realized that this kid was someone I had to have. He's quick, agile, good technically and a quality finisher. When I discovered that he's left footed as well, there was no way I was returning to England without him. Under my wings, I might be able to make him half the player I was, which should be more than enough to become a global superstar.

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Lastly, Rodolfo had almost ordered me to snap up this Colombian from Boca's rivals, River Plate. And seeing as I had managed to run past our current centrebacks, Prödl and Cathcart, in training, every day since taking over the club. Someone quicker was definitely needed. Eder is not Lightning-quick, but he's clever. And despite not being a tall player, I have faith that he can cope with the English game. After all, most of the world's best players haven't been that tall!
​

In the end, I had a very productive trip to South America. What now remains to be seen is if mr. Cannon and mr. Maradona#2 have found me any more players. And then there is the issue of who to get rid of. I'm not sure I'll find many happy faces greeting me after the meeting we're having tonight....
 
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