I woke up, feeling like ****. I phoned in ill, Yeung gave me the day off but told me I had to be in tomorrow. My girlfriend was off today anyway, working only Monday to Thursday, obviously today was Friday.
I lay on the sofa, watching last season’s Birmingham City on tape. The League Cup final against Arsenal to be exact. I was looking at how they won that match, it seemed like luck, but looking closely...
“Y’alright?”
“What? Oh, yeah.”
“You certainly don’t sound it,” she said, plonking herself on the sofa arm next to my head.
“It’s tough, ya know?”
“”yeah, it’s hard being ill.”
“Ya don’t say...”
“As a matter of fact, I do say,” she smiled.
“Ha! Well, at least your alright.”
“Yeah, just about coping. At least we’ve got a bit of spare cash nowadays. Speaking of which, how’s it goin’ up there?”
“St. Andrews? It’s going quite well actually, quite pleased with myself to be honest. Told you I’d make it.”
Her eyes flashed and filled with tears.
“Don’t remind me of that! It makes me feel bad.”
“I’m sorry. Anyways, you need to go and make me a cup of tea thank you.” She smiled and walked off to the kitchen.
“Have we got the heating on yet?”
“Yes, why?” She called back from the kitchen.
“It’s freezing!”
“I’m not actually sure it fully works ya know.”
“****! We better get it fixed or-”
“I had a guy come in to fix it last Thursday, but he said he hadn’t seen anything like it.”
“It is a pretty old place so I’m not surprised.”
“Top house when it was first built though,” she replied.
“Yeah, but that was like 60-odd years ago!”
“Well, yeah, I suppose.”
“We really should look to get a new house soon.”
She looked around sharply. “Ya do know, even with your new job, the money’s still not pouring in non-stop?!?!”
“Yeah, I know but...”
“We can’t afford it yet!”
“Alright, alright.”
I got up and went up stairs, tea in hand.
I immediately e-mailed Coton to ask him how the players had been fairing in training today with our first match tomorrow. His reply came about 30 seconds later...
Hi Chris, lads have been doing great. We had a quick yoga session this morning after a 3 mile run, the lads seemed pleased to a break from the ‘non-stop’ running and drills. We have been going over teamwork and shooting today, a little more light-hearted than normal. Later we will hit the gym and have another yoga session.
I was pleased the guys had been enjoying the yoga sessions, I had worried they would be rejected by the players. But luckily, they weren’t gonna be a chore for them.
Heart pounding. Head sweating. Eyes twitching. My nerves were pressing in on me. Would I be successful? Would the fans accept me? Would we win? It was only the Championship now, but it was as loud as heel in the tunnel. The St Andrews faithful were hootin’ and hollerin’ for their boys to get a win. The crowd were signing, shouting and making general noise, horns littered the stands, hooting continuously; this was more than I had expected for a second division match.
I look to my right, Burnley’s manager, Keith Hill, was just standing there, stock still, looking at the ceiling of the tunnel. It was interesting to see how they all dealt with their nerves as I looked down Barnsley’s team. Sweat was pouring from some guys’ hair already, eyes were closed, other not blinking. A couple were jumping, stretching. Finally the ref came through the middle of the two teams, shaking hands with us managers and also the captains. They stepped out into the bright September sun. The players followed, jogging out, some waving at the fans, but most just beginning to do heel flicks and various quick warm ups. I followed slowly, gulping. Coton tapped me on the back;
“Come on boss, you can do it.” He smiled and continued out. The fans cheered on his appearance, they had been surprisingly happy about the staff change, I earlier learned that they had been having second thoughts about the previous staff. They practically roared as I walked out, and that seemed to ease my tension.
We played rather well actually, the only trouble being our inability to score. My first impressions were very good, however. I was genuinely buzzing when I got home, the newspaper lay on the arm of the chair for me. I flicked through it; ‘Phone Hacking Scandal Brought To Light’
‘Phone Hacking Could Be Made Good’
“More phone hacking **** I see,” I called to the house in general.
“Yeah, I saw,” came the shout from the bedroom upstairs.
I turned the paper over, greeted by a large picture of me, next to a picture of Andre Villas-Boas. My triumphant smile covered to back of the page with the words; YOUTH IS THE NAME OF THE GAME’. Interested, I turned the page. It was mainly about players and the way the youth i stepping it up on the big stage, but right at the end, a reasonably-sized section on the young managers stepping it up involved me greatly, which I was very ,very pleased about. I read the match report as well, basically, all it said was we had played reasonably well, but going by this performance, we were destined for a lowly playoff position. I did not believe it, yes, we could have played better, but a win’s a win and this was the early season.
The next few days were pretty sunny, although the weather was slowly deteriorating slowly; it was windy and very rainy on our next game day. Over at Chrystal Palace was always gonna be tough, and even more so with two of our top strikers out injured: Nikola Zigic with a groin strain, and Marlon King with a damaged knee cartilage. I went to see the lads in the hospital wing:
“You boys alright?”
“Ha! Not really boss,” Marlon said, smiling slightly.
“Hmm, I wish!” Nikola said, also smiling.
“It’s gonna be tough without you.”
“Is that a compliment?” Marlon asked.
“Suppose,” I said, also laughing. “Well, I wish you two a speedy recovery. All the best.”
“Yeah, thanks, see ya boss.”
“Cheers, see ya.”
I strolled up the shiny corridor, heels were clicking behind me. I turned to see my secretary stalking up the corridor.
“Ah, Chris, I was told I would find you here.”
“What can I do for you, Mary?”
“Oh, Mr Coton wanted you, he’s waiting in your office.”
“Oh right, is that all?”
“Urm, no. Here is the oppositions team sheet, and, the doctor’s report on Nikola and Marlon’s recovery rate.” She smiled, and handed me two folders.
“Thanks Mary, can you go down to the scouts’ room and send up Steve Nickson please? Thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah sure.”
She clicked her heels all the way down the corridor and up the stairs, I stayed there until she was out of sight, then turned and continued back towards my office.
“Morning Chris,” Coton said, standing as the door swung open.
“Morning. Now, what did you want to see me about?”
“Palace’s team sheet. Have you seen it yet?”
“Nah, Mary just gave it to me, why?”
“They’re an awfully talented team, I was just worrying about our lack of a goal scorer with Nikola out.”
“I know, but I’m pretty happy with Adam upfront. I’m gonna leave things the way they are for the time being.”
“Well, that’s what I was thinking, but what about after that?”
“Look, I’m happy. If Adam can’t perform in later weeks before the guys get back from injury, I’ll get some new guys in maybe. But hang on, this isn’t the most talented Palace team, we have a great chance to win; was the striker issue the only worry you had?”
“Well, there are some other things, but can we discuss this later? I’ve gotta go talk to the players. Thanks”
I nodded and slumped forward, head in hands. Why was he bringing these things up now? Why? Why? Why? Argh! I pulled out our team sheet, and our squad list. There were some weaknesses, I knew. But why before a game? It was so frustrating! I threw the papers on the floor.
There was a knock at the door, “Yes?” It was my secretary.
“You busy? Steve’s here.”
“No, bring him in.”
“Okay.” She said, withdrawing.
“Hi Chris, you wanted to see me?”
“Steve, please sit down.” He looked slightly worried, but sat down. “I just wanted to ask you to see if you could come up with some youth candidates over the next few days, just a quick search.”
“Oh, yeah sure. Is that all?”
“Yeah, yeah. I need to prepare anyway. Thanks.”
The stands were booming again, pounding at my ears as I ran up towards Coton in the runnel. I was slightly late, but just about on time. I looked up the line, the players were looking slightly more nervous than our last game at home.
We were dominated early on, and were lucky to get away from the early minutes without conceding a goal. We got a bit of pressure on soon after that, with Adam Rooney coming close. A slick counter attack, of which we had been working on in training, produced a great chance, but it was only the side netting for De Lucas. A late corner also wielded a good chance, but it was tidied up by the Palace ‘keeper. We got off the blocks early in the second and almost scored early. Palace took advantage of our momentarily flimsy defence as Ambrose potted it home from Riga’s cross. Following a substitute to put Schalke on in place of Rooney, we played another slick passing move to craft a reasonable chance, but we couldn't put it home. De Lucas had another chance, but again, he couldn’t put it home. A late goal from Palace all but sealed the defeat for us, a brilliant 30-yard blast off a corner impressed me despite it being against us.
The dressing room was silent when I entered. Towels covered many of the guys’ faces, and others just sat there staring into space.
“I hope you learn from this. This was poor overall, but let’s not nit-pick. There were good signs. Anyone think they know what I’m talking about?”
Stephen Carr spoke up, “Our attacking play?”
“Well, yes. Specifically, our counter attacking was working well.” The lads seemed cheered by that. “Get changed then boys, we’ll get back early.”
