Singing the Blues - A Semi-Fictional Story of Managing Birmingham City on FM23

[MatthewElphinstone]

Nice story!

KIU

Totally decided to rob bits and bobs off your tactic btw

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Part Eleven​

Welcome back to Singing the Blues! Time to find out what's in the box...

This part is spread across two posts, so please keep reading after the Wigan game!

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Twelve
Part Thirteen
Season Two
Season Three
Season Four

​

I’m staring at Harry. He’s grinning at me. My heart is beating as if a crush has just asked if you’ve got any plans tonight and fancy doing something.

“Really?” I force out after what feels like an eternity.

“Really,” says Harry. His cheeks must hurt from how much he’s smiling.

“I… I don’t believe you.”

“What?!” Harry’s face drops. “Why not? What’ve I ever done to you that means you don’t trust me?”

I raise an eyebrow.

“You told me I could order takeaways to my office and nobody would judge me.”

“That’s true though!”

“Yes, but you didn’t tell me everyone would then expect me to buy some for them too!”

Harry looks down at his shoes.

“I didn’t think you’d mind…”

“I spent four and a half thousand pounds at Wagamama.”

“Do you want this box open or not?” Harry snaps.

“Obviously, I just had suspicions,” I reply.

“Well,” Harry strides to the cupboard, pulls out the small, wooden box, setting it down on my desk as he returns with it. He then reaches into the pocket of his trousers and pulls out a silver key. “If you don’t believe me, then try for yourself.” He hands me the key and crosses his arms.

I consider whether I think this is an elaborate joke for a moment before I pick up the key, shaking gently as I put it in the lock. I’ve been desperate to find out what’s inside since I got the job last June, yet I can’t seem to bring myself to twist the key. What could possibly be inside that required this level of secrecy? Why let me open it now? Do I even want to open it, on the off chance I’m let down by the contents?

Eventually, I rotate my hand and the lid springs open.

“Harry?”

“Yes, Nicole?”

I lift out what’s been kept from me for over eight months.

“This is a pair of old socks.”

“Correct,” beams Harry, who seems far more excited than I am.

“I’ll rephrase: why have you kept an old pair of socks locked in a box, in my office, and refused to let me know anything about them?” I’m shaking again, though this time it’s as a result of a building rage.

“Because, they’re special,” he says, far too happily for my liking.

“If you think that’s an adequate answer, I might jump over this desk and maul you,” I growl, my gaze fixed unblinkingly on the footwear in my grasp.

Harry breathes in deeply and begins to explain.

“They’re the socks Trevor Francis wore in his first ever game. You know, when he set our record for youngest player that lasted forty-odd years?”

“Keep going,” I utter, not looking away.

“Well, it’s believed by some at the club that they have magical properties.”

My eyes flick directly to Harry’s.

“Do you think I’m an idiot? Magic socks? THAT’S what you expect me to believe this has been leading to?”

“Look, I thought it was a load of rubbish when I was told too, but let me explain,” Harry pleads. “Every manager who’s in charge when our Under-16s play the Under-18s gets to pick one of the potential scholars to wear these socks for the game. The player who’s chosen always seems to go on to great things, and the sooner they’re given their debut afterwards, the better the result. Each manager only gets the chance to use the socks once during their spell though, given how old they are we don’t want to run the risk of damaging them irreparably with frequent use - we want to have the powers available for as long as we can.”

I take a moment to process, considering my next words carefully.

“I’m dreaming, I must be. Slap me.”

“Boss, the list of players this has worked on speaks for itself,” Harry continues, undeterred. He pulls a folded piece of paper out of a barely noticeable compartment in the base of the box.

“I really don’t think -”

“Nathan Redmond.”

“Okay, that’s one example of -”

“Andy. Johnson.”

“That could be a total coincidence for all you -”

“JUDE. BELLINGHAM.”

“Okay, fine!” I shout. “You want me to give someone the socks? I will. But, ONLY to prove that this insanity needs to end. ‘Magic socks’ won’t guarantee you a top-class footballer, I’ll show you.”

Harry smirks.

“All you’ll do is hand yourself a gem for the next few years.”

“Well, I look forward to it then,” I bite back. “When the match comes around in a few weeks, give them to Bob van Leeuwen. He’s got a fantastic name and I look forward to nobody being able to spell or pronounce it correctly - IF it works.”

“Oh, it’ll work,” Harry looks almost manic. “Just you wait and see.”

With that, he strides out of my office and slams the door. I’m left to my thoughts, trying to digest everything that just happened. Magic socks? Surely not.

Right?

* * * * * * * *
​

We leave behind the fantastical and return to something that is definitely real: a football match. Specifically, our trip to Wigan. The mid-table Latics are in a poor run of form, so we go into the game expecting a win with the same team that got us through to our FA Cup quarter-final - which will be away to Chelsea.

​

The highlights from the first half could probably be confined to a single, 30 second clip.

Marc Roberts deflects Alfie Devine’s shot from close range onto the bar and the ball is lumped clear. Troy Deeney collects the bouncing clearance and plays a pass straight through the Wigan backline for Hannibal Mejbri, who drives into the box and strokes into the far corner to give us the lead.

Both teams come out after the break with a bit more energy and desire, but the game remains quite scrappy until Lucas Rodríguez gathers a loose ball on the right from his own free kick, cuts inside, and curls into the top corner for his first goal as a Blues player.

We create a couple more chances in the last quarter of an hour, but Ben Amos is a match to whatever Przemysław Płacheta has to offer as we ease our way to the three points.

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Now, when we’ve rotated recently, we’ve still looked quite good. We even beat our next opponents, Rotherham, 5-0 after making ten changes for our Carabao Cup last-16 tie. Making fewer changes would mean we’re fine, right?

Well, on our league visit to Yorkshire, we only made seven changes, managing to throw away two leads and draw after absolutely battering the Millers. I’m still slightly traumatised.

But we’re a different beast now, pulling away at the top of the table, and we have a couple of big games coming up that we need players fresh for, so I fancy our chances against the second-worst team in the league this season so far. It’ll be just the six changes this time with Maxime Colin, Rodríguez, Krystian Bielik, Jordan James, Tahith Chong, and Hannibal being replaced with Mathías Suárez, Danny Rose, Jobe Bellingham, Emerson Hyndman, Płacheta, and Finley Thorndike.

​

This was a game where just looking at the statistics afterwards would not paint an accurate picture.

Yes, we made a few half decent chances in the first half, being denied by a combination of a block, a save, and the crossbar. Yes, we went 1-0 up when Dion Sanderson glanced home from the front post at a corner. However, absolutely nothing of note seemed to happen after the 25th minute, so to finish the game with an xG of 2.2 felt quite generous to say the least.

Oh well, shouldn’t complain - especially as we’ve now guaranteed we can’t finish any lower than the play-off spots this season.

* * * * * * * *
​

With the win secured, resting our players looks to have been the right choice as we travel to sixth-placed Watford with a squad that’s raring to go, so we reverse the changes we made last time out and hope that our freshness can make the difference.

​

I’m starting to get used to uneventful first halves, to the point that I’m seriously considering taking up knitting. I give the boys a ‘gentle’ reminder that it’s their job to win football matches at half time and hope that makes the difference.

Worryingly, Watford’s players seem to have been given the same message. They come out fighting and gain the advantage when Yáser Asprilla pokes in after John Ruddy can only push a Craig Cathcart header back into play from a free kick, and we look in real danger of losing only our second league game of the season.

Then, everything changed in the space of two minutes.

Having changed shape, Thorndike releases Chong through the centre. He breaks into The Hornets’ box, taking the ball slightly wider, and coolly slots into the far corner to pull us level. Not even two minutes later, James plays an almost identical pass and Tahith replicates his move. This time though, his shot looks to be headed wide, but Cathcart can’t slow his retreat quickly enough and knees into his own net to complete the turnaround. We look to shut the contest down and, despite a nervy scramble from a corner, see out the final minutes for a crucial victory.

* * * * * * * *
​

What you’d like after a huge effort like that is a chance to rest and recover, time to recharge the batteries and refocus ahead of a nice, easy fixture.

What we’ve got is Premier League title chasers Chelsea. In an FA Cup quarter-final. Away from home. Four days later. Perfect.

Having given them time off from training this week, it’ll be the same eleven to attempt the improbable in getting to both domestic cup semi-final stages this season.

Time to find out which ‘Blues’ are better.

​

We start well, creating a good opportunity for Chong that he blazes into the stands, and I start to believe that we have a real chance of taking the game to our big-spending hosts. We aren’t really being outplayed, and we don’t get phased by Chelsea having three penalties awarded by the on-field referee, all then overturned by the VAR. Hannibal even forces a great save from Kepa Arrizabalaga from close range after an excellent pass from James.

That’s why it’s so disappointing when we forget how to defend five minutes later.

Ben Chilwell finds himself in acres of space on the left and feeds a pass through our backline for Marc Cucurella, who plays a square ball across our six yard box for Kai Havertz, unmarked, to tap into the gaping net.

Our belief is gone, our shoulders are slumped, and things go from bad to worse when Chong receives his second booking within four minutes of the first for a needless block on Reece James - the first red card we’ve been given all season - making it a simple keep-ball exercise for Chelsea as the clock ticks down on our best run in this competition since 2011.

They turned the screw after the hour mark, and we simply couldn’t cope.

* * * * * * * *
​

“Are you seriously starting the kid?”

“Chongy’s suspended, so surely it’s the perfect opportunity for him? Why not now?” I reply to Keith Downing.

“Because we’re in the middle of a title push, QPR are ninth, we’re playing away, and the toughest opposition he’s ever faced are our Under-18s,” he explains, sounding exasperated.

“Look, Bob’s the most promising of a good crop of lads who’re coming through - if anyone can cope with the pressure, it’s him. If it’s not going to plan, Przemysław can come on for him.”

“Why not start him from the bench, like Kieran Hamer?” Keith continues. “Give them a chance if it’s all going to plan, but this seems like too big a risk.”

“As big a risk as Pep Clotet took when he gave Jude his debut. Look how that turned out,” I put forward.

“Keith, just give her the benefit of the doubt,” my other assistant, Matthew Gardiner, says. “We all thought we’d be near the bottom of the league this season, yet we’re on course to break multiple records en route to winning the whole thing - if there’s anyone’s judgement you should trust, it’s Nicole’s.”

I feel my cheeks flush slightly, fully aware that Van Leeuwen is primarily making his debut because I want to prove Harry’s silly fantasies about magical socks are a load of nonsense.

“Let’s stop arguing about this, guys, my mind’s already made up - he’s starting.”

​

It’s the sixth minute. Troy Deeney has broken forward from the centre circle. He finds Van Leeuwen to his right. The 16-year-old takes one touch to bring the ball inside and thunders an effort at goal from the edge of the box. I can feel Harry staring at the back of my head as the shot flies in and the whole dugout goes wild, but I refuse to turn around and give him any satisfaction.

Bob’s involved again five minutes later, this time teeing up Bielik to loop a pass over QPR’s defence that Juninho Bacuna stylishly volleys in with enough force that it registers on local earthquake monitoring equipment and we look to be in total control.

Obviously, total control must be boring for this squad by now, so Bielik decides to spice things up by shoving over Carlos Borges to gift The Rs a penalty that Sam Field converts shortly before half-time, then Borges misses a gilt-edged chance shortly after the break as his strike from eight yards enters a low orbit when one-on-one with Ruddy. This serves as a wake-up call for our boys as we tighten up and regain our composure, putting the game beyond doubt as we near the last ten minutes when Bacuna finishes a sweeping counter attack and cruise to victory, heading 14 points clear of Blackburn at the top of the table.

But all the headlines will be printed about Bob van Leeuwen, he of the allegedly magical socks, as he set the records for youngest appearance maker and goalscorer in club history.

Maybe I’ll have to keep an eye on him after all.

* * * * * * * *
​

Thank you for reading! Please follow this thread to keep up with the updates, and feel free to follow me on Instagram and Twitter!

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Part Twelve​

Welcome back to Singing the Blues! Will the title be ours?

This part is spread across two posts, so please keep reading after the Reading game!

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Thirteen
Season Two

​

“See boss, I told you it’d work!”

Harry’s busy trying to convince me that Bob van Leeuwen’s impressive debut is all the evidence I need to believe that Trevor Francis’ socks really are magic.

“It’s a coincidence, Harry. One good performance doesn’t mean that he's suddenly the best player in the team - there’s a long way to go for him and I just hope he develops well.”

“Of course he’ll develop well,” Harry replies. “You guaranteed he’ll be one of the best players to ever come through our academy by starting him so soon after giving him the socks to wear.”

“There’s nothing that scares me more than guarantees of potential, except maybe the National Sea Life Centre,” I say.

“Why’s that?”

“They have a glass tunnel surrounded entirely by water and fish, that doesn’t seem overly safe to me.”

“I meant guarantees of potential.”

“Oh, right. Having a lot of potential is a fantastic thing, but you can’t guarantee it being fulfilled. So many players fall short of the high standards expected of them, be it injury, poor advice from people around them, a manager that just doesn’t believe in them, whatever. All I want is for Bob to do the best he can, and the rest should follow - for every Kylian Mbappé there’s a Dele Alli,” I explain.

Harry looks reflective for a moment.

“You make some good points boss, very thought provoking.”

“Thank you.”

“Bob’s different though.”

“Of course he is,” I sigh. “You’re up, by the way.”

Harry stands and moves to have his turn bowling as Keith Downing takes his seat.

“Did I hear you saying something about magic socks, gaffer?”

“No,” I lie. “You must have misheard me over the obnoxiously loud music in here.”

“It’s trendy, part of the experience,” shouts Matthew Gardiner.

“I’d like to experience having ear drums for a bit longer,” I mutter, inaudible over the din.

“Are you thinking of keeping the kid in this weekend? He played well and seems to have the world at his feet,” Keith asks, missing my comment.

“No, as good as he was, I don’t want to take that chance in the biggest game of the season. Blackburn are second and winning could put us one win from the title - Chong’s coming back in,” I say. “We’ll keep him on the bench though, I’d like to see what sort of an impact he’d make against a tired defence.”

“Good thinking,” Keith agrees as Harry completes his two pin spare. “You’re up.”

I get out of my seat and grab a ball, striding confidently to the lane. I take a deep breath, step forward, and bowl straight into the gutter.

Hopefully, that’s not a sign of things to come.

​

We’re all over them like gravy on roast potatoes, totally smothering Rovers as I can’t help but question how they’ve done so well and when we finally make the breakthrough halfway through the opening period, it’s in comical fashion.

As Troy Deeney’s shot bounces down off the bar, Thomas Kaminski and Clinton Mola both wait for the other to do something like they’re new parents and the ball is their baby crying in the middle of the night, so Deeney capitalises on their hesitation and pokes into the abandoned net.

Within six minutes, we’re 3-0 up.

First, Troy converts a penalty after Marc Roberts was bundled over at a corner, then Jordan James floats a cross to the back post for Tahith Chong to nod home. We reach half-time with an xG of 2.06 to our opponents’ 0.15, having had 62% of possession, and we continue in that vein after the restart, Chong stretching our advantage to four when he taps in from a deep free kick. Blackburn do pull one back after March’s Championship Goal of the Month winner Lucas Rodríguez passes straight to Tyrhys Dolan, the attacker’s pull-back being smashed in by Ryan Hedges, but that really is an aberration in the overall context of the match.

This was total dominance against our nearest challengers for the title.

* * * * * * * *
​

Now’s the time for a quick breakdown of all the possibilities on Good Friday.

If either Blackburn or Burnley fail to win their next games (the play-off chasing duo of Norwich and Middlesbrough respectively), we’ll be promoted - should we beat Reading.

If we win against our 19th-placed hosts and both Blackburn AND Burnley fail to win, we’ll be crowned champions with six rounds of fixtures to go.

If we fail to win? We’ll still be clear at the top, but any ascension to the Premier League will have to wait for another day.

Our only change on this potentially momentous day sees Poor Josh Williams replace Maxime Colin, who picked up a slight knock during the week that he’s not fully recovered from.

Let’s do this.

​

It’s injury time and we’re 3-0 up thanks to goals from Chong and Deeney, as well as a penalty from Van Leeuwen, so we’re doing our part on our way to breaking Reading’s own record by going 34 games unbeaten.

Norwich and Middlesbrough are doing their part too.

“It’s FIVE-one now, boss, Blackburn are falling apart,” says Keith, checking his phone.

“And Burnley?” I ask. “Any more goals disallowed?”

“Still just the three,” he replies. “Actually, there should only be seconds left.”

I try to control my breathing, but I can’t. My breaths are shaky and shallow, my heart beating in my throat. 12 years. 12 years of being stuck in the Championship, being profoundly mediocre and being horrified at the prospects of League One football almost every season. 12 years that have included the reigns of two sets of incompetent owners, one of whom was a criminal, whilst the club seemed set to slide into financial oblivion. It’d been horrific to be a fan, all the hope of ‘I reckon these signings are decent, maybe we won’t be so awful this season’ in the summer, only to be let down by the following spring.

But not this season. This was meant to be the season that the floor finally gave way, with a cobbled together squad and a managerial appointment that tried to look progressive and forward-thinking to disguise that I was inexperienced and, therefore, cheap. Yet here we are, seconds away from winning the title, setting new records and playing attractive football to boot.

I hear the unmistakable roar of a group of fans who know that it’s almost time to celebrate come from the away end. The Burnley match must have finished. In a way, I wish I could be in there with them, being able to enjoy the moment, celebrating long into the night and all weekend, not a care in the world, but it’ll be back to work tomorrow - preparations for both next season and our match at home to Stoke on Easter Monday will ramp up in the morning.

Being the manager to finally deliver that joy, however, is a special feeling. No doubt, I’ll make the most of enjoying today.

The whistle blows and the bench around me streams out onto the pitch. We’ve done it.

Birmingham City are the 2022/23 Championship title winners.

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

The next few days are a hazy mess of interviews, meetings, and Easter eggs, but we have to refocus ourselves. Stoke might be mid-table, but they’ve got some dangerous players.

We make a couple of changes as Mathías Suárez comes in for Poor Josh, and Finley Thorndike deputises for Hannibal Mejbri as the Tunisian’s performance levels have been declining recently.

We have more records to aim for, so now’s the time to play like the champions we are.

​

I think everyone enjoyed themselves a little too much this weekend.

Despite the party atmosphere in the stands, the game has the sort of intensity you’d find in a care home with only a couple of half chances for each team. There’s a sudden spike in activity when Van Leeuwen drills a low cross into the middle for James to slam in and Ben Wilmot sees red for seeking revenge on the offending limb within five minutes, but the status quo is restored for the final quarter of an hour as we trundle gently past the 100 point mark.

* * * * * * * *
​

I have good memories of Sunderland. Mainly about the 2017/18 season when we were spectacularly abject and survived as a result of them and a couple of other teams, somehow, being even worse. However, they’ve done well this time to get themselves relatively safe from danger, with plenty of matches to spare.

We make three changes as we head to Wearside, with Colin and Hannibal being restored to the starting eleven, as well as Jobe Bellingham taking Juninho Bacuna’s place who, apparently, is knackered and needs a good rest. With five games left.

Go figure.

​

The first half is so underwhelming that there’s only one thing written down in my notebook. Stern words are had.

They have the desired effect.

Within two minutes of the restart, Chong fires a low cross to the penalty spot for Deeney to attack like an insecure meat-eater that’s noticed a vegan share their dietary choices online. He thumps home to give us the lead and we double our advantage when Chong gets on the scoresheet himself, prodding under the onrushing Federico Marchetti from Hannibal’s perfectly weighted through ball.

Then we score what I would consider a contender for goal of the season.

Deeney spreads play to the right for Colin. The Frenchman gets down the line and pulls the ball back to Bellingham, with the teenager stopping it dead in the corner of the box. He looks up and, having noticed Marchetti off his line, delicately chips the ball towards the back post, dropping perfectly over the ‘keeper and into the far corner.

We’re much improved after the break, and the only decent chance The Black Cats get is blocked well by Krystian Bielik as we go on to win our 25th league game in a row.

* * * * * * * *
​

The most important record left for us to break is now in our sights - Reading’s impressive 106 points racked up on their way to the title in 2005/06. A win at Millwall in our last midweek match of the season will see us over the line, as we’ve already managed 105 ourselves, along with setting a new high for matches won in a single campaign.

There will be no changes as we look to cement our place in history.

​

I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve watched Chong receive a pass on the right, beat his man, cut inside, and curl a strike into the far corner. However many it is, add one to it in the 24th minute. Five minutes later and it’s 2-0, Hannibal teeing up Bellingham for his second goal in as many games when he rifles into the bottom right from the edge of the area.

The Lions go close soon after as we’re caught out by a long ball and John Ruddy has to bail us out when one-on-one with George Honeyman, but we’re the team to score next after Hannibal runs the length of the pitch before squaring to Chong to stroke in from six yards.

Our luck seems to be in today as, after Ruddy saves well from a Murray Wallace header from a corner, Shaun Hutchinson blasts straight at Rodríguez - the only player left upright on the line. We continue to make good chances, but the biggest falls to Benik Afobe when he’s set free behind our defence, steadies himself, then places his shot perfectly at Ruddy’s water bottle about a yard outside of the post.

Classy.

* * * * * * * *
​

I’m in a very contemplative mood as I lean back in my office chair, gazing out the window across the sea of green that makes up Wast Hills and thinking ahead to the future.

With all records ticked off, we now have three games left to set the bar as high as possible. We have a recognisable style of play that should make targeting the right additions in the summer much easier, and we have a number of young players who are only going to get better as they perform at a higher level.

So, as we leave everybody in our wake, there’s a question I finally feel comfortable enough to consider:

Will the Premier League be ready for us?

* * * * * * * *
​

Thank you for reading! Please follow this thread to keep up with the updates, and feel free to follow me on Instagram and Twitter!

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Part Thirteen​

Welcome back - it's the Season One Finale of Singing the Blues! How many points will we finish with? How many games will our winning run last for? How many times can I say season?!

This part is spread across two posts, so please keep reading after the Sheffield United game!

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve
Season Two
Season Three

​

As the late-April sun beams through my office windows, preparations for our hosting of Blackpool this weekend complete, I feel relaxed for the first time in a very long time. Everything’s calm, everything’s happy, plus with promotion secured and records broken, there’s no targets left to aim for - only ones to set for other teams to try and step up to.

I allow my mind to wander, casting my eyes around the room and thinking about how much has changed since last summer. I now know what’s in the wooden box, whether I believe the socks are magical is still debatable however. The whiskey set is gathering dust where I’ve not required its services. The copies of Men’s Fitness are still in the cupboard, even though I’m sure I’ve tried to throw them out at least twice. My whiteboard is neatly sectioned off into three areas, labelled ‘Tactics’, ‘Memos’, and ‘Squad Depth’.

It’s upon noticing the last portion that I start to get slightly tense.

I have to produce a report for the Board of Directors at the end of the season in which I analyse every player in the squad and give my thoughts on where we should focus our attentions in the transfer window. I’ve been putting this off because, despite this squad breaking records, I don’t have the heart to admit that I’m not sure how many of them will make the grade for the tier above. That said, it’s not an overly thick squad and is padded out by loans, so I imagine a number will stick around. Whether they’ll all be happy with their reduced contribution is a different matter.

I stand and walk to the diagram, scan it for about four seconds, then plaster it with a bunch of sticky notes until I can’t see any details at all, choosing to ignore the issue until after the last match of the season. I proceed to leave the room and shut the door, quite literally locking my problems away for another day.

“Are you avoiding the squad report again, Nicole?” Harry asks, looking up from whatever he was working on at his desk.

“No,” I say, sounding a little more confrontational than someone telling the truth should. “I just… fancied a walk.”

“I could hear you with the Post-its.”

“Just annotating my notebook, that’s all.”

“You’re playing with your hair again, you do that whenever you’re anxious.”

I immediately take my hand away from my ponytail.

“No I don’t, I do it when I’m thinking too,” I respond.

“What’s on your mind then?” Harry queries.

“Cupcakes.”

“Where from?”

“Kiss Me Cupcakes, down the road.”

“They close at 16:30, try again.”

Darn.

“You should be in charge of our transfer negotiations, Harry,” I snap as I start to walk away.

“You’re going to have to deal with it at some point, boss!” Harry shouts down the corridor.

True as that may be, that day is not today.

* * * * * * * *
​

So as The Seasiders come to the city, it’ll be just the one change as Juninho Bacuna comes in for a tired Jobe Bellingham. Blackpool have an outside chance of reaching the play-offs, though they’ll have to win here to realistically keep those hopes alive.

​

After more than half an hour of nothingness, Lucas Rodríguez sparks the game into life when he curls a free kick from the edge of the box into the top-left corner, with Bacuna doubling our tally after somehow squeezing the ball in at the near post when set though by Tahith Chong. Then, as we approach the end of injury time, Chong gets on the scoresheet himself when he nods in at a free kick to give us a three goal lead that, if we’re being honest with ourselves, flatters us somewhat.

We ease back to a degree in the second half, allowing Blackpool the chance to grab one back when Shayne Lavery prods in Keshi Anderson’s low cross after Jordan James was dispossessed, having received the ball and been as decisive over his options as the average coffee shop customer is when they finally reach the front of the queue.

After that, the chances dry up for both teams as we cruise to victory and reach 111 points.

* * * * * * * *
​

We follow that win with our final away trip - a journey along the M6 to Coventry. There’ll be no changes as we look to increase our record haul at the expense of The Sky Blues.

​

I think I can pretty safely say that this has to go down as the dullest first half since I took over, even more so than Sunderland.

It’s not until just before the hour mark that anything of note happens when Chong beats Jake Bidwell on the right, cuts inside, and smashes a shot in off of the underside of the bar from a tight angle to give us the advantage. I hope that we’ll push on from here, but we look like we’re back to dreaming of our holidays.

Therefore, with four minutes left of regular time, I am furious when Todd Kane’s deep cross is met on the volley by Callum O’Hare to bring the teams level and we can’t shake ourselves from our stupor to find a winner.

Our league winning run ends at 27 and I have to admit that I’m a little disappointed with the result.

Congratulations to Burnley though - their win means they’ll be coming up with us.

* * * * * * * *
​

So, to our final game before becoming a Premier League club - Sheffield United at home. Coincidentally, my first ever match was when The Blades came to visit on the last day of the 2001/02 regular season, before we went on to get promoted via the play-offs. How strange.

It’ll be the same eleven again as we hope to sign off in style.

​

The sun’s out, the crowd’s in a carefree mood, and the players are enjoying themselves, all contributing to a fun afternoon of football.

Fun for everybody until Arsenal-loanee Marquinhos taps in from close range to spoil things for us.

But we rally, creating some good chances before Chong floats a cross into the middle and Troy Deeney smashes home to equalise. We continue to flood forward and are in the ascendency, meaning it’s little surprise when the underlapping Bob van Leeuwen drills a low ball across the six yard box for Chong to convert and give us the lead. What a way to end a successful campaign this would be.

Shame then that James McAtee thumps in from twelve yards for his first ever goal as we’re about to enter injury time.

Oh well.

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

So, as the season draws to a close, I can’t avoid it any longer - the time has come to take stock and review how my players performed on an individual basis.

​

It will surprise absolutely nobody that John Ruddy played every available minute in every competition. The Championship Golden Glove winner’s experience and leadership are invaluable to us, so I have little doubt that he’ll still be our first-choice by the end of the next transfer window - especially if he keeps saving five out of every six shots he faces. Zach Jeacock, meanwhile, is somebody I avoid making eye contact with whenever I see him lurking near my office.

​

At the start of the season, I was certain that the centre-back pairing of Auston Trusty and Dion Sanderson was going to be the part of my lineups that remained unchanged all campaign, but poor form opened the door to Marc Roberts and my goodness did he take his chance. His aerial presence helped pull us out of our sequence of drawing every other game, chipping in with eight goals, and he made himself undroppable at Trusty’s expense - though Auston’s versatility from the bench came in useful on several occasions.

If there’s any concern, it’s that Trusty and Sanderson are both on loan and that leaves Roberts as the only senior centre-back at the club as we head into the summer. Malachi Fagan-Walcott is getting better, but he’s by no means ready for weekly, Premier League football - this is one of the most important areas for us to address.

​

Maxime Colin absolutely nailed down the right-back berth, his anticipation and vision keeping Mathías Suárez out of the starting eleven when fit. Despite this, the fact he’s 31 now and isn’t getting any better means we’re unlikely to agree to the wages he’ll want (if he even wants to negotiate a new contract), so he’ll likely be ending his six year stay in the West Midlands. A small shout out to Poor Josh Williams who made the most of his limited chances after being demoted to third choice.

On the other side of our defence, it’s a slightly different story.

Danny Rose made 32 starts, though that was primarily because he was our only option in that position until January. Manny Longelo was unfortunate to be the most expendable of our six loan signings when it came to deciding which five would be in each match squad. He did well when he got his chances in the cup, though the fact he’s been playing against rubbish teams makes him look much better.

Once Lucas Rodríguez came in, things seemed to improve on the left and he even won our Goal of the Season competition for his strike against Wigan, but whether he’ll be capable of making the step up is the big question, so perhaps we’ll look to improve in this position. Time to bring in yet another left-back it seems.

Overall, whilst I’ve been reasonably pleased with their defensive output, I’m hoping to get a little more out of my full backs going forward next campaign - especially as four out of five of them underperformed their expected assists.

​

If I’m being honest, I am very keen on signing Krystian Bielik permanently. His contributions to regaining possession and breaking up attacks, including being dominant in the air, have been a big reason as to why we’ve been so solid, and the emergence of Jobe Bellingham as a more than capable deputy has pushed Gary Gardner towards the exit door.

In front of them, Juninho Bacuna both scoring and creating nine goals highlights the importance of his role creatively in our midfield, and the consistency Jordan James has performed with is very impressive for a player who won’t turn 19 for almost two months yet, whilst Emerson Hyndman has been excellent at deputising for either of the pair - though I’m a little concerned that he was unable to perform well enough to keep his place ahead of a teenager. George Hall has also done well in limited minutes, but we may have to look at sending him out on loan to ensure he continues to develop next season.

​

Oh, Tahith. My beautiful Tahith. Fans’ Player of the Season. Fans’ Young Player of the Season. Championship Signing of the Season. Championship Player of the Season. Top creator in the entire division with 22 assists in the league, 24 overall, and 24 goals in all competitions to match, totalling 48 goal involvements in 49 games. Sweet Jesus, how I love this man. Przemysław Płacheta stood no chance of forcing himself into our starting lineup, however his contributions off the bench were often crucial. Bob van Leeuwen has made his presence felt since his debut too, so I have absolutely no concerns over the right of our attack.

I do, however, have concerns over the left… again.

Whilst Hannibal Mejbri has been an important player for us, I can’t help but feel he could have done more, especially when you compare his performances to those who played on the opposite flank, and even more so when you consider how expensive he’d be to bring back to the club once his loan expires. To tie into this, while Finley Thorndike has done better than I thought he would, he is absolutely not ready to be second-choice for a Premier League team - a useful squad option is likely to be his role next campaign.

Forgotten man Jonathan Leko was very unlucky to pick up a cruciate ligament injury so early in the season, but having suffered such a severe injury twice now, he’s simply never going to develop into the player we once hoped. He’ll be leaving when his contract expires in the summer.

​

Up front, it’s been all about Troy Deeney. The veteran’s ability to bring others in to play along with his physicality made him practically undroppable as he scored a team-high 27 goals this campaign, helped two-fold via the combination of seven converted penalties out of seven, and Scott Hogan picking up two long-term injuries that he’s still several months off recovering from. The Irishman didn’t manage any goals across his 15 appearances - a new, younger option should be sought out, especially as Adan George doesn’t show any signs of ever being a viable choice for us.

* * * * * * * *
​

“Well, Nicole, thank you for the very comprehensive breakdown,” says Graham Carr, our director of football.

“You’re very welcome,” I reply, smiling.

“You are aware that our transfer budget is around £35,000,000, right?” Craig Gardner, our technical director, asks.

“Yes.”

“And how many players do you want to sign again?”

“At least nine.”

“Right…” mutters Graham. “How do you suggest we go about that?”

“Creatively.”

The pair sigh.

“No promises, Nicole,” says Craig. “But we’ll do our best.”

“I hope so,” I respond. “I want next season to be one to remember for the right reasons.”

Graham looks pensive for a moment before he asks the biggest question of the meeting so far:

“Even if we manage to get these players in, do you think we really have any chance of staying up?”

“Well, everyone thought we were going down this season but we proved them all wrong,” I say as a grin spreads across my face from ear to ear. “So who knows? As far as I’m concerned, when it comes to what I think we can achieve whilst I'm here…”

“This is just the beginning.”

* * * * * * * *​

Thank you for reading! Please follow this thread to keep up with the updates, and feel free to follow me on Instagram and Twitter!

 

[dporter8999]

Just read all of this and thoroughly enjoyed it! Looking forward to seeing how you do in the Prem!

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Season Two

Part Fourteen
​

Welcome back to Singing the Blues! A new season is on the horizon - so what have we done to prepare?

Season One

​

“Right then, Harry,” I say, replacing the lid on my whiteboard pen. “I think that’s everyone sorted before the game tomorrow.”

“I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d be able to bolster the squad as much as you have with the budget they gave you,” Harry replies. “I’m not even sure I can remember everybody who’s come and gone, I added and removed so many phone contacts that it feels like I’ve moved clubs myself.”

“Why don’t we go through them all again? I’ve still got all the reports on my desk.” I gesture to the teetering pile of scout and coach reports that have been slowly gathering over the summer.

“How do you find anything on there? It’s a total mess,” Harry says, pulling the sort of face a child might at the sight of cabbage.

“I call it organised chaos.”

“It’s a dump.”

“I can find everything I need!”

“Like birthday cards you received nearly three months ago?” Harry says, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine, I’ll sort it next week,” I concede.

“You’ve been saying that since the start of July.”

“Shush, do you want to recap the transfers so far or just judge my stationery organisational skills?” I snap.

“I think I’ve made my point,” Harry says, leaning against the cupboards and taking a sip of his tea. “Go on then, remind me of who left before you reel off the new boys.”

“Well, most of our loanees returned to their parent clubs - some of them weren’t good enough for the step up, some weren’t as good as other players on the market who were in their price range, and Hannibal would have cost us almost our entire budget to keep.

“As for the permanent members of our squad who left, a lot of them were, at best, mid-table Championship players and needed moving on. Gary Gardner left for MK Dons, Danny Rose went to Reading, Emerson Hyndman moved back to the USA to join Charlotte, Jonathan Leko’s still looking for a new club after his release, and Josh Williams has gone to Oxford.”

“Poor Josh,” Harry interjects. “Shame about Max as well.”

“Max leaving did make me a little sad, but he simply wanted too much money for a player of his age and quality - I hope he enjoys himself at Spezia. Oh, and both Ivan Šunjić and Sam Cosgrove were moved on because their already ridiculous wages got doubled when we were promoted, despite them contributing absolutely nothing. Other than a few loans for young players, I think that’s everyone.”

​

“Signings then?” Harry asks. “I suppose getting an extra £9 million to spend from Jude being sold to Liverpool helped?”

“Yes, that and agreeing lots of staggered payments so we could get as many bodies in as possible,” I admit. “Krystian Bielik was the first through the door after his impressive loan spell last season, and we know what he’s all about: strong in the air, good on the ball, and excellent defensively. If there’s any concern, it’s that he has a rather worrying lack of speed.”

​

“No, he’s not the quickest, is he?”

“Which is a large part as to why we brought in the centre backs that we did,” I explain. “Anel Ahmedhodžić is an excellent player technically and could probably fill in at right back in a pinch, whilst Andrew Omobamidele is already very solid defensively for someone so young. Both of them are fairly fast and surprisingly affordable, especially as Andrew’s not signing permanently until the end of the season and the total cost will be under £10 million.”

​

“I’m a fan of both of them,” Harry says, nodding as he reads their reports.

“As am I. Beth too.”

“I didn’t realise she was into football.”

“She’s not,” I reply, shaking my head. “She just thinks they’ve got fantastic names.”

Harry sighs.

“How are the two of you a couple?”

“Because I’m like a sick puppy that she finds too adorable to leave in spite of my obvious inability to look after myself.”

“You sound like a treat to be engaged to, Nicole.”

“Didn’t your previous partner leave you because you kept getting angry that they wouldn’t follow the layout you gave them for their underwear drawer?”

“So, what about the guy from Boca Juniors that we agreed to sign in January?” Harry says, trying to hide his reddening face as he steers the subject back to transfers.

“Agustín Almendra? He’s really well-rounded but probably won’t be as important a player as he thought he would be when he agreed to his contract. Very cheap wage for us though.”

​

“Who’s ahead of him then? I presume Juninho, but who else?”

“Alex Scott from Bristol City. He’s not the finished article but looks fantastic for a player of his age and his versatility could be vital,” I explain.

​

“I see,” Harry nods, holding up a folder. “Is Oscar Gloukh not starting then?”

​

“He is.”

“Where?”

“Up front.”

Harry seems to chew his tongue before replying.

“Bold. Very bold.”

“I feel like his link up play and mobility make him a better choice than Troy, though he’ll need to work on bulking out a bit.”

“I suppose, seems risky.”

“We can’t exactly play it safe, can we?” I argue. “I reckon Oscar could be exactly the player we need, as long as we give him the platform to develop.”

“You could always play Bob there,” Harry says, winking.

“Not yet. I want him as an option on the right, seeing as there was nobody of Oscar’s ability and potential on the market for a similar price who can play that role.”

“Good point, there isn’t another left-footed player who could step in if Tahith gets injured. The other wing’s looking good now at least.”

“Absolutely. I jumped at the chance to bring Demarai Gray back to the club and Danny Namaso was a no-brainer when we could have him for so little, giving us time to decide if we want to keep him at the club longer,” I agree.

​

“They’re both such clever and skilful players,” I continue. “Their dynamism is going to cause a lot of problems for defenders.”

“Speaking of defenders, did you sign another left back?” Harry queries with a knowing smile. I shuffle my feet awkwardly.

“Yes. Yes I did. For what it’s worth, we paid a lower initial fee for Ian Maatsen than we received from Reading for Danny Rose, so given he’s eleven years younger and will hopefully be our left back for a number of years, I don’t think I have anything to be ashamed of.”

​

“He’s not amazing though, is he?”

“Look,” I snarl. “You seem to underestimate how much work needed to be done on this team and how much a Premier League standard player costs. That’s why we went with signing Josh Griffiths as a backup for John, rather than looking for a new first-choice goalkeeper - a lot of these signings are with a long-term view.”

​

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Harry pleads. “And does that just leave Neco? I’m not sure anyone expected our new record signing to be a right back.” I pass him Neco Williams’ report to scan through.

​

“That wasn’t originally the plan, but his delivery is incredible and he’s very capable both offensively and defensively. Add to that that only a quarter of his guaranteed fee came out of this year’s budget and it all starts to make sense.” I grin at Harry. “So, what do you think? We’ve built a good squad, right?”

​

“Yeah, I think so,” Harry agrees after thinking for a moment. “It’s quite a youthful bunch, but I can see us being competitive. I’m looking forward to seeing them in the new kits too.”

​

“I’m glad we could get such an important local employer like Cadbury to sponsor the front,” I say.

“Me too. I don’t recognise the designers’ logo though.”

“Apparently it’s a local, independent woman. Someone with an interest in football, pandas… blogging…” I trail off.

“And the sleeve sponsor?” Harry continues. “What is that?”

“Free advertising,” I mutter.

“Pardon?”

“We are surprising. Surprisingly expected to do worse than Hull who scraped through the play-offs, according to the bookies at least.”

​

“Who knows, boss. They thought we’d be useless last season too, so don’t read too much into it. Anyway, it’s getting late. You better get home and get some rest tonight, Nicole.” Harry makes his way to the door. “Big game tomorrow.”

“It’s not THAT big,” I reply, smirking as I rise from my chair.

“It’s only Villa away in our first game back as a Premier League club.”

* * * * * * * *​

Thank you for reading! Please follow this thread to keep up with the updates, and feel free to follow me on Instagram and Twitter!

*Disclaimer* As a result of adding custom kits to the game, I've had to buy and use the In-Game Editor, however this will be the only thing it's used for - because where would be the fun in cheating?

 

[seventhcolumn]

Wow those custom kits look absolutely gorgeous, major props to you. It seems well worth the purchase of the In-Game Editor.

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Part Fifteen
​

Welcome back to Singing the Blues! There really is no bigger game that could mark our return to the Premier League, so can we hold our nerve?

This part is spread across two posts, so please keep reading after the Burnley game!

Season One
Part Fourteen
Part Sixteen
Part Seventeen
Part Eighteen
Part Nineteen
Part Twenty
Part Twenty-One
Part Twenty-Two
Part Twenty-Three
Season Three
Season Four

​

I’ve had all summer to prepare for this moment, yet I still can’t quite believe it’s real. Our fiercest rivals, on their turf no less, for our first top flight match in over a decade.

No pressure then.

As I enter the away dressing room at Villa Park with ten minutes to go until kickoff, the whole squad falls silent, ready to listen.

“We’ll then, lads, it’s nearly time. I wanted to give you some long and glowing speech about how ‘all I’m looking for is for you to work hard and try your best’, but you deserve better than me lying to you,” I say.

“If there’s a game this season I want you to win more than any other, it’s this one. But that’s not me talking as your manager - I’m talking to you as a fan, and those of you who grew up supporting the club will know how much this means to every Bluenose who’s made the trip today.” Troy Deeney, Demarai Gray, Jordan James, Jobe Bellingham, and Bob van Leeuwen all nod in agreement. “You think Joachim Löw gets what this fixture means the way I do? Of course he doesn’t.”

“Yes, they finished fifth last season, but that counts for nothing now. It’s a fresh start and this is your opportunity to prove to the world that we belong in the Premier League, and if we could beat Manchester UFC, West Ham, Everton, and Brentford last campaign with a thin squad of a worse quality than the one we’ve got now, I reckon we’re going to cause a few headaches for some of the more established clubs this time around.”

“Now, we’ve spent all summer going over every tactical detail possible, so I won’t bore you by repeating myself. What I will say is this: savour this. Savour every second and give it everything you’ve got, because there’s goodness knows how many people who bleed blue out there that would give anything to be one of you today. So go out there and play as they’d play, make yourselves heroes, and be the first Blues team to win here in nearly 19 years.”

The bell rings, telling the players it’s time to get to the tunnel.

“Make me proud today, boys.”

My team roar and there’s high fives all round as they stream out of the room.

“Blimey, boss, that was a bit intense by your usual standards. Are you feeling alright?” Keith Downing asks.

“Where’s your favourite place to go in the city, Keith?”

“The Thinktank museum.”

“And yours, Matthew?”

“Botanical gardens,” grunts Matthew Gardiner.

“So, how comfortable would you be going to the Thinktank, or the gardens, or Treetop Adventure Golf if we get our backsides handed to us today?”

“Not very,” replies Keith.

“That’s your favourite place in the city?” Matthew asks.

“And how long would it take before you would risk going back?”

“Ages,” says Keith

“I thought it might be Cadbury World or something…” Matthew mutters.

“That’s why there’s absolutely no way that losing is an option today.”

​

It’s a cautious start for both teams, neither wanting to give the other any openings to capitalise on, which works well for us. Less so for Villa, because Gray rolls a ball across for Alex Scott in the 17th minute which he thunders, first time, into the top corner from 25 yards out. That’s Goal of the Season sorted then.

Our goal unsettles the crowd and we start to assert our control as if we were the ones who qualified for the Europa League last season, limiting our hosts to nothing more than half-chances. The Villa players look as lost as teenagers who’ve run out of mobile data, none more so than Matty Cash when Ian Maatsen turns him inside out three times before floating in a cross for Tahith Chong, our best player last campaign nodding in from the penalty spot midway through the second half to double our lead.

By this point, it’s taking every ounce of willpower left to maintain my composure, so Andrew Omobamidele glancing in a Maatsen free kick for 3-0 obviously sends me as wild as our fans in the Doug Ellis Stand, and not even a late surge resulting in a Moussa Niakhaté goal and a big chance for Leon Bailey that’s saved fantastically by John Ruddy can dampen our mood.

We’ve come to Villa Park and totally outclassed our rivals.

* * * * * * * *
​

“I know we’re all celebrating, Nicole, but did you really need to sign another full-back?” asks Harry.

“Mathías Suárez is concerned he won’t get a new work permit at the end of his contract and wants to leave.”

“But there’s been no bids?”

“I’m getting ahead of the game!” I reply. “Gonçalo Esteves is raw, but he has a high ceiling. Having him come in on a loan with an option to buy also helps keep the budget under control.”

​

“35% of your signings have been full-backs.”

“Oh, shut up and let me prepare for the trip to Burnley, won’t you?” I snap.

“What’re you thinking? Same again?”

“I would, but Demarai twisted his knee so we’ll have to make the one change. Good job Danny was only suspended for one match, he’ll have to fill in on the left.”

“I presume you mean left-back?” grins Harry.

“Sod off.”

​

Before we go any further, it’s worth remembering that Burnley were our closest challengers for the Championship title last season. Remember that? Good.

Because they look loads worse than us now.

Danny Namaso looks to vindicate his signing and show us that he can make the step up, lifting a pass over The Claret’s defence for Scott to volley in and put us ahead.

The fact it took 25 minutes of football for us to score another was one of the biggest surprises, but Burnley’s resistance crumbles once Anel Ahmedhodžić heads in a Chong corner, with Tahith applying his trademark finish across the goalkeeper for our third before Juninho Bacuna completes the rout by prodding in an Ahmedhodžić flick-on from a free kick.

Comprehensive.

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

We did pretty well in the Carabao Cup last season, knocking out Manchester UFC and Everton as we exceeded all expectations in getting to the semi-final stage before finally running out of puff against Arsenal, so we’re going full strength in an attempt to match or better that achievement this season, right?

No.

As much as I want to do well in this competition again, we’ve got a trip to the Etihad only a few days after this game and I want the strongest eleven possible to be available for selection, therefore we’ll make ten changes to the lineup from the weekend with only Namaso surviving the rotation and hope that we have enough quality in depth to see off Bournemouth.

​

I’m sitting alone in the dugout. The fans have long since gone home, as have all the players and coaches. The only other person left in the stadium, the groundskeeper, sidles over to me after sending cautious glances my way for the last hour.

“You alright, gaffer?”

“I will be,” I murmur. “I really thought we’d kick on after Bob scored that early goal, but all it seemed to do was wake them up. I can’t believe we held out for as long as we did before they equalised. Not shocked we lost the shootout though, Lucas Rodríguez didn’t exactly exude confidence.”

“Yeah, but penalties are a lottery, aren’t they? The lads tried their best, boss, that’s all we ask for,” he reassures me. “Plus, it’s Bournemouth. We always lose to Bournemouth. The fact we managed to draw with them is a minor miracle. Besides, if we keep up the league form we’ve shown since you joined, we’ll get our own back.” He smiles as he shuffles back towards the grass where his pitchfork is staked. “Don’t worry, there’s always the FA Cup,” he shouts over his shoulder.

I chuckle as he walks away. He makes a good point, at least my Backup Boys did the best they could. I look down to my phone to check what time it is. 16 missed calls and seven messages of increasing panic along the theme of “Where are you? Are you alright?” from Beth.

Oopsie.

* * * * * * * *
​

And so, to Manchester. City’s wage bill is ten times the size of ours and they just spent £180 million on Vinícius Júnior. That said, we’re top and they’re fourth. Take that, sportswashing.

We make a full eleven changes to the team that crashed out of the cup, with a fit again Gray returning to the lineup as I try to work out how bad it’ll have to get before it’s no longer embarrassing to cry.

​

I can tell by the third minute that this is likely to be first on Match of the Day tonight with how easily Erling Haaland breaks through our defence and lobs Ruddy, only to see his effort bounce down off the bar and be smacked clear by Omobamidele.

This signified the type of afternoon we have in store for us. Phil Foden hits a wicked volley from close range that Ruddy does tremendously well to tip round the post 15 minutes later, then Haaland is played through again but lashes wildly wide when one-on-one. By the time I’ve finished massaging my temples however, the subsequent goal kick has been worked right to Chong for a rare foray forwards. The Dutchman beats José Gayà all ends up, sliding a ball through the centre backs for Oscar Gloukh who slots into the bottom corner and, somehow, we’re winning all of a sudden. Massively against the run of play, we’re upsetting one of the big boys again.

And Manchester City seem very upset.

Vinícius Jr twice fails to convert from six yards, Krystian Bielik does well to block a Gayà thunderbolt and Haaland heads over from the resulting corner. We manage to get in with the lead still intact despite City having an xG of 2.15 to our 0.45.

The pattern continues after the restart and we fear the worst once Bielik crumples to the ground clutching at his knee with almost half an hour to go before Ruddy makes his best stop yet, denying the usually lethal Haaland from two yards with a save I’ll have to see replays of to believe actually happened.

But, finally, we can’t hold out any longer. Aymeric Laporte bundles in an equaliser at a corner and any hope of a win goes out the window, so I instruct Gloukh to drop a little deeper in an attempt to clog up the middle of the park.

It works. We’re immediately better at keeping the ball and City are fading. Having seen all of their dominance fail to result in them leading at any point, they run out of hope as we earn a scarcely believable point. I know that Pep Guardiola is going to whinge in his interviews about how lucky we were, but guess what?

I couldn’t care less.

* * * * * * * *
​

Fresh off the back of the international break, we finally have our first game at home in the league when we welcome Brentford back to St. Andrew’s, having beaten them here last season in the FA Cup. I want to pick the same team that started in our last outing, but Bielik will be out for another couple of weeks and Neco Williams picked up a knock that leaves him barely fit enough for the bench, so Bellingham and Esteves will have to slot in.

​

After the barrage we faced against Man City, we are delighted that The Bees have turned up in stuttering form and aren’t particularly interested in doing anything meaningful to fix it.

Whilst we aren’t at our creative best, we spend much of the match in the driving seat, Namaso converting Chong’s cross on the half-volley early in the second half being the only meaningful moment of the 90 minutes. We never let our advantage slip as neither team do much to threaten the scoreline thereafter in a performance that’s more gritty than pretty.

​

Nevertheless, a win’s a win, and that victory means we’ve picked up ten points from our opening four games and, you might want to pinch yourself, because we’re sitting at the top of the pile. It almost certainly won’t last, but let’s enjoy it while it does.

Welcome back to the Premier League, Birmingham City.

* * * * * * * *​

Thank you for reading! Please follow this thread to keep up with the updates, and feel free to follow me on Instagram and Twitter!

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Part Sixteen
​

Welcome back to Singing the Blues! We've got a tricky run of five games that's bookended by North London's biggest clubs - can we sustain our good start?

This part is spread across two posts, so please keep reading after the Leicester game!

Season One
Part Fourteen
Part Fifteen
Part Seventeen
Part Eighteen
Part Nineteen
Part Twenty
Part Twenty-One
Part Twenty-Two
Part Twenty-Three
Season Three
Season Four

​

As I oversee training on a balmy, mid-September morning, I can’t help but beam.

We should all be proud of ourselves for how we’ve started this season. We’re already a quarter of the way to our first target of 40 points after just four games, the new boys are settling in, and I’m still not tired of regaling anyone who will listen about the Villa result.

Yes, we got incredibly lucky against Manchester City and I’m still a little traumatised about the Bournemouth result, but not having another midweek game until December is quite pleasing after the chaos of last campaign, so if we can keep all our best players fit then who knows how far we could go?

I feel the smile slowly slip from my face, however, as I notice a glum-looking Pete Shaw, our head physio, making a beeline for me.

“I presume it’s bad news then, Pete?” I ask as he moves within earshot.

“Not entirely,” he replies. “On the plus side, Neco should be raring to go after he missed last weekend, but Oscar’s still complaining about tightness in his calf. Should be fine for 20-30 minutes if you really need him, but I wouldn’t recommend starting him.”

“I did think he’s moving like he has a toddler clinging to his leg. Anything else I need to know?”

“Nothing new, Krystian’s getting close to being back in contention again - if not next weekend then certainly the one after that - but that’s about it,” Pete says.

“That’s good to hear, cheers, Pete,” I reply. He nods and heads back towards the medical wing of Wast Hills as I turn to my assistant managers.

“What do you think then, guys, shall we throw Arsenal a curveball and play Danny or Bob up front? Press them more than they’ll be expecting?”

“Are you for real?” Matthew Gardiner grumbles, raising an eyebrow.

“Gaffer, we’ve trained for this tactic all week,” Keith Downing says. “Do you really want to change that at the last minute when we’re about to play last season’s Europa League winners? We should definitely go with Troy leading the line, he has a history of riling up their players.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” I lie. “Just making sure we’re all on the same page. Troy!” Troy Deeney breaks away from his drill, jogging over to us.

“Yes, boss?”

“Just letting you know that you’ll be starting. I trust you, make me proud.”

“As you should,” Troy frowns. “I scored 27 goals last season for goodness’ sake.”

We all stand in an awkward silence that feels like it lasts for several weeks.

“Cheers, Troy. You can rejoin the lads,” I squeak at last. He spins away and clatters through the back of Malachi Fagan-Walcott as he returns to the ongoing training session.

“He seems more than a little put out by his current place in the pecking order,” Keith mutters.

“Well,” I start. “Let’s hope he brings that kind of desire to the Emirates.”

​

Deeney shows how keen he is to regain the striker spot permanently by contributing massively to an attack that takes zero shots in the first half.

In spite of this, we’ve limited Arsenal to predominantly long-range efforts with John Ruddy barely tested by our hosts, so we let the boys know at the interval that we’re pleased with their efforts so far in the hope they kick on.

And kick on they do.

Within three minutes of the restart, Demarai Gray splits The Gunners’ defence with a through ball for Alex Scott. August’s Goal of the Month winner seizes the golden opportunity by slotting into the bottom corner when one-on-one, nabbing us the lead with our first attempt of the match.

Scott’s sucker punch rattles Arsenal, their legs heavy after their unsuccessful Champions League efforts on Tuesday, and they simply can’t break us down, the hammer blow coming when Teun Koopmeiners limps off after Mikel Arteta’s already made his five substitutions. We slow down and stodge up the final ten minutes, claiming an unlikely three points to keep our place at the top of the league.

* * * * * * * *
​

Off the back of our successful trip to the Capital, we return home to play Leicester. The Foxes have made a stuttering start, not helped by £37.5 million man Darwin Núñez struggling to adapt to his new surroundings. Our only change sees Oscar Gloukh return to the lineup for the misfiring Deeney.

​

We start as we finished last time out, taking charge and asserting ourselves, Tahith Chong poking Anel Ahmedhodžić’s flick-on in from close range to break the deadlock ten minutes before half-time. We look good, we look in control, we look every bit a Premier League team.

Then everything falls apart in the space of three minutes.

First, our centre-backs watch on like scarecrows as James Maddison threads a ball between them for Jamie Vardy to run onto, prodding under Ruddy to restore parity. I tell my players not to panic, there’s only seven minutes left and we can still come away with a credible point if we maintain our composure and no one does anything stupid.

Having all heard my advice and all seemed to have taken it on board, Scott decides making a career change to professional volleyball player when defending a corner is the most sensible course of action - he may be our best performer of the campaign so far, but that doesn’t make him immune to me calling him a pillock. Vardy converts the resulting penalty and we can’t dig deep enough to recover this time.

At last, after a spell stretching across 45 games and 13 months, we’ve finally lost another league game.

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

It’s been a while since we’ve felt this way, but we can’t afford to let our heads drop now. Our next match is another home game, this time hosting the also-newly-promoted Hull. Their team is surprisingly similar to the one we faced last season, so I’d hope we can return to winning ways against a side that have picked up a whopping one point from their opening six games.

I name an unchanged lineup as I want a reaction.

​

“Is this why people take up smoking? I feel like this is why people take up smoking.”

“Calm down, Nicole, it’s over now,” Keith says as I try to recover from what occurred before speaking to everybody.

“How am I meant to calm down?!” I exclaim. “We twice went behind, but I was sure we’d bounce back once Bartol Franjić picked up the most pointless second booking in history on the halfway line, yet Nathan Baxter was in absolutely ridiculous form - it’s no wonder I wanted to bring him in if Hull didn’t sign him!”

“We know, gaffer, we know,” Matthew mutters.

“I was rather relieved when Bob got our second equaliser just before injury time, but I probably got a little too carried away when Oscar scored that winner a couple of minutes later,” I admit.

“You jumped up from the bench, ran over to the Cowleys, and shouted ‘Take that, you insufferable, tangerine turds’.”

“It doesn’t matter what I said, Keith, and we should probably move on.”

* * * * * * * *
​

Have we all recovered? Good. Time to journey north to face Everton.

We’re handed a boost in the build up as Krystian Bielik is deemed fit enough to start, though Chong can’t recover from a knock and needs to be replaced by Bob van Leeuwen. I also give our full backs more freedom to get forward and get involved as I’m starting to get a little frustrated at their recent performances.

We edged past the Toffees in the Carabao Cup whilst still a Championship club - can we repeat the trick this time out?

​

Both teams have decent chances in the opening period with Dominic Calvert-Lewin grazing the post from 12 yards before Scott cracks a strike off the opposite crossbar, but neither team has any sort of cutting edge.

Fortunately for Jean-Philippe Gbamin, he doesn’t need much cutting edge when he can simply thump the ball from outside the area into the top corner. We’re behind for the third game in a row.

We react well though, changing shape and seeing the benefits of unleashing our wide defenders when Ian Maatsen finds himself in a more advanced position and curls the ball around the right side of Everton’s backline for Danny Namaso. The substitute watches the ball float through the air and chests it into his path and, with a satisfying ‘thwack’, smacks it before it lands, nearly taking the net off its stanchions as his shot flies past the helpless Jordan Pickford for a late leveller that means we scuttle away from Merseyside with a hard-earned point.

* * * * * * * *
​

Having survived our trip to Goodison Park, we face another tough test as Tottenham visit St. Andrew’s, remarkably, level on points with us for our third-versus-fourth battle. Our only change sees Chong return to the starting eleven after Van Leeuwen performed as well as a raincoat made of toilet paper.

​

Everything seems calm. We’ve frustrated Spurs. We look to be headed in at the break intact. Then the ball flies up in the air and Ahmedhodžić unceremoniously dumps Son Heung-min on the floor in the penalty area and we’re now behind, again, after Harry Kane strokes the subsequent kick into the bottom-left corner. Darn.

We seem energised after play resumes, but once Gray misses a glorious chance our shoulders slump and we don’t ever look like recovering, the victory for our guests sealed once Cristian Romero powers in a Son corner at the back post.

Only our second ever blank in the league as Tottenham’s superior quality shines through.

​

That said, if you’d have told me that we’d be fifth after nine games, having visited Villa Park, the Etihad, and the Emirates without losing, I’d have bitten your hand off, especially if we remember we were 900/1 to win the title and favourites to finish bottom before everything kicked off.

We’re mixing it with Premier League stalwarts and not being embarrassed, so I don’t see why we can’t achieve something memorable this season.

Plus, Villa are 17th - what’s not to love?

* * * * * * * *
​

Thank you for reading! Please follow this thread to keep up with the updates, and feel free to follow me on Instagram and Twitter!

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Part Seventeen​

Welcome back to Singing the Blues! The air's pretty thin this high up in the table and I quite like it - can we keep ourselves here?

This part is spread across two posts, so please keep reading after the Wolves game!

Season One
Part Fourteen
Part Fifteen
Part Sixteen
Part Eighteen
Part Nineteen
Part Twenty
Part Twenty-One
Part Twenty-Two
Part Twenty-Three
Season Three
Season Four

​

“All I’m saying is that I think we should be looking upwards after the start we’ve made, we shouldn’t need to have any worries about relegation now.”

“I agree in principle, Harry, but we can’t afford to get complacent,” I reply. “We’ve not even played ten games yet, nothing’s guaranteed. I also have this weird sense that there’s some sort of change on the horizon, almost like there’s an unseen force adjusting the way football’s played…”

“That’s an oddly specific concept to be concerned about. Just don’t worry so much, Nicole, sit back and enjoy the ride.”

“It’s literally my job to worry about how we perform.”

“True, but surely you’re having a good time?” Harry asks.

“I must admit that I am, but we shouldn’t get too carried away - Premier League clubs are much scarier than Championship clubs, and I’m certain our tactics will stop taking teams by surprise soon enough.”

“Why not get carried away? We beat Villa AND Arsenal!”

“We also lost to Leicester when we were winning with seven minutes to go. This division is unforgiving and FOR GOD’S SAKE, WHY CAN’T I GET ANY ORE?” I suddenly shout, slamming my fist on my desk.

“Because, like normal, you’ve neglected it and now I’ve set up the most productive mine you’ll ever see,” Harry says smuggly. “Should we really be playing Catan the afternoon before a match?”

“All our prep is done and all the players have gone home, so there’s not really anything else left to do - unless I fancy springing surprises on the boys tomorrow morning, but that doesn’t seem very sensible.”

“I’ve heard you lectured about late, impulsive changes too often to disagree with you. What’s the plan then?”

“Well, Ian’s suspended so Lucas will fill in at left-back, and Robbo’s going to come in for Andrew after he stubbed his toe last week,” I elaborate.

“Let’s hope everyone plays a lot better against Southampton than they did against Spurs,” Harry says.

“They’re 15th so, for the squad’s sake, they darn well better.”

​

Do you remember when we deserved to lose against Norwich last season and the squad responded by smashing Preston 5-0, away from home, in the following game?

It appears our new-look squad have the same kind of fire in them too.

It seems like a regular, good performance for us by the interval, controlling possession and taking an early lead when Anel Ahmedhodžić nods in a Tahith Chong corner. Nothing extraordinary so far.

Then a switch seems to flip after the restart.

First, Oscar Gloukh pokes a low cross through Gavin Bazunu’s legs from close range to double our advantage, before Demarai Gray fizzes a dipping ball to the penalty spot for Alex Scott to slot in. There’s a moment of panic as John Ruddy does well to spread himself wide and smother Nathan Tella’s one-on-one effort, but we react like a Facebook comment section on posts about transgender people, angrily getting back in their faces and stretching the gap further once Gloukh grabs his second of the game, with Gray completing the rout as the clock winds down on injury time.

What a performance.

* * * * * * * *
​

As a reward for such a good display, I give the team a day off. On his day off, Agustín Almendra rings me to tell me he’s unhappy at not playing more. I inform him that he’s obviously not getting in ahead of the current crop in midfield and should consider his role to be more of a rotation option, just as the recently released Football Manager 2024 suggests his ability warrants. He scoffs and suggests I come back to reality before hanging up.

That went well.

Moving on, we now travel to Wolverhampton for our second local derby of the season. Though not quite as fierce a rivalry as that with Villa, it’s still a game of massive importance and, with Wolves in eighth, could prove to be tougher.

Ian Maatsen returns after Lucas Rodríguez stood out as the only somewhat-underwhelming performer in the demolition at St. Mary’s in our only change.

​

Added time is nearly upon us as I stand with my hands on my hips, glaring at anyone who gets near me.

After a cagey first half, Raúl Jiménez ghosted in front of both Ahmedhodžić and Ruddy to stab in minutes after the interval. We’ve grown into the game since then, changing shape and hitting the bar twice, but nothing to show for it so far.

“Maybe it’s just not meant to be today, boss,” Keith Downing says as he pats my shoulder in a manner I assume is meant to come across as reassuring but, in the circumstances, only irritates me.

“Except it should have been,” I fume. “We’ve done enough to deserve a point, but of course these smug, orange brats have kept us at bay.”

“I think you mean ‘old gold’, not orange.”

“Same difference.”

“It’s not actually, there’s an interesting subset between primary colours and the secondary colours they contribute to of colours that don’t really belong to either, such as turquoise and indigo, and it’s widely believed-“

“Blimey, Keith,” I snap, turning my head sharply towards him. “That sounds exactly like something my fiancée would say. In fact, I’m sure she’s used those exact words before actually…”

My attention is drawn back to the action as various shouts along the line of “Go on!” erupt from our dugout.

The ball is plummeting out of the clouds like spherical blue ice and thumps down behind Wolves’ backline. José Sá rushes out but Danny Namaso gets there first and lifts it over the stranded ‘keeper, just dipping under the woodwork to grab us an equaliser.

“Get in, Danny!” I shout above the din from the away section. “Who played that ball for him?”

“I think it was Agustín. Volleyed it first time too.”

“Oh.” My smile weakens.

Awkward.

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Having enjoyed a wonderful international break where Namaso made his Cameroon debut and Joachim Löw got sacked by Villa as they sit perilously close to the relegation zone, we return home to face Leeds who currently reside with us in nosebleed territory, finding themselves sixth coming into today's fixture.

Andrew Omobamidele returns to the starting eleven having recovered fully from his injury, whilst Krystian Bielik is apparently ready to limp through the 90 minutes with a slightly tight calf.

​

It’s half-time, the score’s 0-0, Gray’s gone off injured, and the combined xG for both sides is 0.32. Not a classic thus far.

The extreme caution seeps its way into the second period too, so we’re helped tremendously by Pascal Struijk disconnecting his brain from his legs muscles and lolloping into the back of the stationary Chong, gifting us a penalty with 15 minutes to go that Gloukh coolly dispatches.

Not long later, Scott drives through the Leeds defence before drilling into the far corner, then he grabs his second of the game just as the final whistle is about to go, hitting Chong’s cross on the half-volley and breaking the sound barrier as his shot hurtles into the top corner from the edge of the area.

He’s a one-man Goal of the Season shortlist.

* * * * * * * *
​

The Monday following our win, Almendra decides not to turn up to training, so I make him aware that he won’t be picked for any squad again, shall be training with the Under-21s, and that our recruitment team will start looking for any club that’ll take him.

I’m not letting his attitude affect our excellent campaign.

Having dealt with Almendra, Finley Thorndike will fill his space in the squad until we can recall George Hall from his loan at Northampton come January, taking his spot on the bench as Crystal Palace come to town for the second of four consecutive home games. The Eagles are in eighth, so will be no pushovers as Namaso comes in for the injured Gray on the left.

​

Although we prepared for a tough test, we never look like letting our visitors back into the match once Omobamidele powers in Maatsen’s free kick midway through the first half.

We make the better chances and control possession, Scott grabbing a goal just after the hour mark before Gloukh stretches the gap by blasting in Bob van Leeuwen’s pull-back as we enter the final ten minutes.

Whilst Jordan Ayew does grab one back for Palace, the damage is done and it amounts to little more than frustration for those in the defensive unit who’ll miss out on their clean sheet bonus.

* * * * * * * *
​

Having brushed aside the Londoners, we find ourselves up against a slightly bigger challenge: Liverpool.

Whilst the Reds haven’t had as good a start as they would have hoped, their quality is such that they could beat any team 7-0 out of the blue and not many people would be very surprised, so we’ll treat them like the potential title challengers we know they could be and name an unchanged 20.

​

We get a boost when we receive the team sheet that shows Virgil van Dijk, Naby Keïta, Luis Díaz, and Blues icon Jude Bellingham are all missing for one reason or another, though their eleven is still pretty scary.

Then, after kick-off, a basketball match breaks out.

Evanilson forces a good save from Ruddy, so Gloukh forces a better one from Alisson. Mo Salah hits the bar, so Omobamidele does the same. Diogo Jota goes close, Scott goes closer. It’s end-to-end and breathless, both sides putting on a show, and we start growing in confidence as the momentum starts swinging more in our favour.

Yet, unbelievably, neither of us can find the back of the net before full-time and we all leave St. Andrew’s baffled that the game ended goalless, my first 0-0 in my 72nd game.

​

Despite this, we’re obviously delighted to survive with a draw and it leaves us fourth, averaging two points per game. So far, I’d been thinking that this form was a fluke, but now I’m not so sure.

Are we… are we actually a very good team?

* * * * * * * *​

Thank you for reading! Please follow this thread to keep up with the updates, and feel free to follow me on Instagram and Twitter!

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Part Eighteen​

Welcome back to Singing the Blues! What a year 2023 has been for Birmingham City, but can we finish on a high?

This part is spread across two posts, so please keep reading after the Bournemouth game!

Season One
Part Fourteen
Part Fifteen
Part Sixteen
Part Seventeen
Part Nineteen
Part Twenty
Part Twenty-One
Part Twenty-Two
Part Twenty-Three
Season Three
Season Four

“Bournemouth!” I shout, hurling the orange I’m mid-way through peeling at the television. I miss and it lands with a weak thud next to the radiator. “Why is it ALWAYS Bournemouth?!”

“Because life’s not fair,” Beth mutters, measuring resin for her latest project. “Did you really expect anything else?”

“Given there’s 64 teams in the draw, I rather hoped so. There was less than a 1.5% chance we’d be facing them!”

​

“As long as you don’t spend an hour and a half sulking without warning me you’ll be home late this time, you’ll be fine,” Beth says, raising her eyebrows.

“I won’t,” I respond, looking down at my feet. “And I won’t when we play them at the weekend because we’re not at home.”

“Haven’t you got another game before then?”

“Yeah, tomorrow. Chelsea come to visit. They’re a bit scary,” I reply.

“I assumed so, I’ve actually heard of them.”

“It’s made worse by having Neco Williams suspended, plus Anel Ahmedhodžić and Juninho Bacuna are injured,” I continue. “At least Demarai Gray is fit again so he can take Danny Namaso’s place in the team, joining Gonçalo Esteves, Marc Roberts, and Jordan James in returning to the starting lineup and you really don’t care do you?”

“No, not at all,” Beth puts bluntly. “I do listen though. Now, glitter, or no glitter?”

“Always glitter,” I grumble.

​

We played Chelsea last preseason and we lost 1-0. We played them in the FA Cup last season and we lost 1-0.

So it’ll come as little surprise that, today, we lost 1-0.

The match was low on quality, but it only took one mistake to make the difference. Ben Chilwell’s cross deflected up into the air and Kai Havertz looped a header goalward that was tipped fantastically onto the post by John Ruddy, the loose ball dropping limply toward the feet of Ian Maatsen. He had plenty of time to deal with the issue, so did he lump it into touch? Did he try and play his way out?

No. He seized up like a malfunctioned Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robot, clearly feeling the pressure against his former employers, allowing Ángel Correa to nip in front of him and stab home.

Great.

* * * * * * * *
​

Hello, Bournemouth, perpetual thorn-in-the-side of Birmingham City.

It’s ten years this week since Blues last beat our hosts in ANY competition, and Chris Wilder’s men have already frustrated us in the Carabao Cup this season, so we’ll be going as strong as possible when we travel to the South Coast with Williams, Ahmedhožić, and Bacuna returning, though Andrew Omobamidele will miss out after picking up his fifth booking of the season.

​

Oh good, just over a quarter of an hour gone and Dominic Solanke has headed The Cherries in front. How delightful. I begin repeatedly stabbing myself in the leg with my pen, hoping it’ll have some sort of magical effect that’ll see half their team come down with mystery thigh strains.

We barely rally as the first half wears on, so we swap to our wide diamond at the break and immediately look more threatening. Alex Scott has a goal ruled out for offside but, within a minute, Williams breezes past Lewis Cook and whips a low ball to the front post for Namaso to flick in. It’s about time our record signing registered his first assist.

We continue to press forward, finding the woodwork a couple of times, but we just can’t break through for a second goal and leave a match against Bournemouth, once again, incredibly frustrated.

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Having spent the week pretending not to sulk, we welcome Newcastle to B9 on Christmas Eve Eve, with Omobamidele returning the only change from our last lineup.

Our visitors find themselves in mid-table, which is a little surprising considering the totally-legitimate-and-not-at-all-questionable resources available to them, so let’s hope we can make Christmas Turkeys of these Magpies.

​

As we enter the 90th minute, it seems like a complete performance: Oscar Gloukh put us ahead early on, then turned provider for Scott to double our lead, and we’ve managed to limit Newcastle to an xG of 0.07, according to my analysts.

Then everything descends into chaos.

Callum Wilson tees up Mehmet Aydin to pull one back for our visitors and we panic, misplacing passes, giving away silly free kicks, then an innocuous long ball is lumped forward and Ahmedhožić slaps it out of the air for a ridiculous second booking. After I glare at him until he’s down the tunnel and out of sight, I turn back just in time to watch Ruddy get his fingertips to the resulting free kick from Shelvey to touch it onto the bar, so I bury my head in my hands and wish for the game to end.

It feels like the four minutes of added time go on for four hours but, mercifully, the final whistle sounds at last and I feel a gentle pat on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry, gaffer,” Marc Roberts rumbles from the seat behind me in his comforting, Barnsley tones. “It’s over, we’ve won.”

“Thank goodness,” I say, a smile spreading across my face. I turn to face him. “Blimey, Robbo, it’s minus three degrees and you’re in a short-sleeved shirt, don’t you want a jacket or something?”

“Nah, boss, I’m bloomin’ boilin’.”

He’s very Northern, isn’t he?

* * * * * * * *
​

After surviving that late scare, we head to the Capital, more specifically the London Stadium, home of possibly the worst away fan experience in the country. Also, West Ham.

The Hammers are 18th, essentially making them the worst team in the league given Burnley and Hull have decided to abdicate their top-flight status already. Roberts will fill in for Ahmedhožić, who I think just wanted Christmas off.

​

Maybe West Ham have given up on the Premier League too.

We rip them apart, only limited by our inability to hit the target and, when we do, Alphonse Areola standing up to everything we have to offer until injury time of the opening period, Gray lashing a volley through a crowd of claret to give us the advantage at last.

After the restart, we simply slow down and control the game, our hosts offering about as much offensively as a children’s TV show, so we cruise to the end of the match without much issue.

* * * * * * * *
​

We round out 2023 with a trip to Old Trafford to face Manchester UFC, a side we upset in the Carabao Cup last season to lay down a real marker of our ambitions. The UFC boys have flattered to deceive so far, finding themselves eighth, so, in spite of their inherent scare-factor by virtue of being 20-time Champions of England, they’re there for the taking.

Ahmedhodžić is back from the doghouse, having promised to limit his reckless arm motions, as we look to end the year on a high against Wayne Rooney’s men.

​

We’ve kept the ball for more than a minute, expertly playing through UFC’s press before Gray rolls it into the box for Krystian Bielik to stroke into the far corner and put us 1-0 up before the ten minute mark and, despite poking the huge, red bear, we aren’t overly troubled before half-time given UFC don’t put a single shot on target.

We do see some sort of reaction post-interval, our midfield and defence all stopping still as if possessed by malevolent spirits to allow Brais Méndez to run half the length of the pitch and, fortunately for us, slice his shot wide from six yards, though that’s the only real moment of fear. We limit our opponents to efforts from range, none of which converted, and we seal the victory with two minutes to go, Esteves drilling in a low cross for Troy Deeney to thump in and claim his first goal of the campaign.

* * * * * * * *
​

So, we sit in fourth as we say goodbye to 2023 and, with a couple of players already lined up to join as the clock strikes midnight on this fantastic year, it’s nice to dream of what 2024 could bring us.

As long as it includes a win over Bournemouth, I think I’ll be happy.

* * * * * * * *
​

Thank you for reading! Please follow this thread to keep up with the updates, and feel free to follow me on Instagram and Twitter!

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Part Nineteen​

Welcome back to Singing the Blues! It's a new year, a new start, so maybe we'll manage to beat Bournemouth this time.

This part is spread across two posts, so please keep reading after the Bournemouth game!

Season One
Part Fourteen
Part Fifteen
Part Sixteen
Part Seventeen
Part Eighteen
Part Twenty
Part Twenty-One
Part Twenty-Two
Part Twenty-Three
Season Three
Season Four

We left 2023 in style, winning at Old Trafford and having Ian Maatsen, Alex Scott, and Oscar Gloukh sweep the top three for December’s Young Player of the Month, but now 2024’s rolled around, there’s change on the horizon.

The stroppy Agustín Almendra has left for Austria Vienna, whilst “I won’t get a new work permit” Mathías Suárez has departed to… Rotherham. Go figure. The two of them raked in a combined £8.25 million for us, not bad for a pair of squad players that cost us only £1.25 million for their transfer fees and wages over the course of their stays.

Suárez, being third choice at right-back, makes little impact on our planning, though Almendra’s exit left a gap in our squad, so George Hall has been recalled from his loan at Northampton to fill in after Moisés Caicedo decided he’d rather sign a new deal on £40,500 a week at Championship Brighton than join us on £61,000. His loyalty is admirable, yet wall-punchingly infuriating.

We have been able to confirm a couple of arrivals however, with young goalkeeper Mycael joining from Brazil's Athletico Paranaense for £150,000 to make up for our crippling lack of hope in our current prospects, while we spent £3.5 million to bring Wesley Hoedt in from Anderlecht, at last providing both the left-footed centre-back and capable ball player I’ve been looking for in a backup to Anel Ahmedhodžić.

​

So, as I scan the ‘Squad Depth’ area on my whiteboard, I’m mostly satisfied. The issue being, I can’t stop clocking that my rotation players in midfield are all teenagers. Talented teenagers, but teenagers nonetheless.

“Are you staring at our midfield options again, Nicole?” Craig Gardner asks from the doorway of my office. Startled, I jump back several feet.

“No,” I say, aiming for confident but hitting embarrassed teenager who’s been caught viewing something on the internet that they shouldn’t be. I start running my fingers through my hair. “I’m trying to decide if I make any changes to the lineup for Everton’s visit on Saturday.”

“I know you’re going to leave out Krystian, given he’s still hobbling a little after the UFC game. I’ve been presuming Jobe will stand in for him, that seems to be your usual move.”

“Yeah, that’s the only thing I’ve got planned at the moment. Unless I go to a back three, now we’ve got Wesley to play on the lef-“

“STOP,” Craig demands. “I know you get itchy feet and want to try new ideas, but don’t do it while things are going well, for goodness’ sake. What’s that by the way?” He points at a dark dip on the usually pristine board.

That’s where I excitedly wrote Caicedo’s name before angrily scribbling it out with enough force to dent and stain my lovely whiteboard, I decide not to admit.

“Don’t know,” I mutter. “Probably happened during the New Year’s Eve party.”

“Sure,” Craig says slowly, unconvinced. “Leave the transfers to us, we’ll let you know when we’ve got anything concrete - focus on the team you’ve got for now, eh?” He winks and continues down the corridor, towards his office.

I very much hope that the ‘anything concrete’ materialises this window.

​

I don’t know what Chris Wilder’s been doing since he left Bournemouth for Everton, but he’s clearly losing his touch when it comes to irritating us.

We control the game from the first whistle, making the advantage tangible when Ahmedhodžić glances in at a corner, and we double that lead just before half-time when Tahith Chong scores the most Tahith Chong goal possible, cutting inside and slotting past the ‘keeper into the far corner.

Our guests look awful, having one shot before the break that barely registers as 0.01 xG, and they never look like getting a foothold once play resumes, allowing us to effectively declare at 2-0 and see out the remainder of the match with ease.

* * * * * * * *​

It’s time for the FA Cup, which means it’s time for Bournemouth again. Yippee.

Given the level of trauma they’ve inflicted over the years, ranging from the 8-0 demolition here in 2014 to the loss on penalties in the Carabao Cup at the start of the campaign, I’ve decided not to take any risks. Krystian Bielik returns whilst Josh Griffiths deputises as our cup goalkeeper in our only changes from last weekend.

We simply cannot lose.

​

Chong nodding in a header at the back post seven minutes in does not calm me down - we’ve been here before.

But what comes next gets me out of my seat and then some.

Juninho Bacuna floats a pass over The Cherries’ sluggish defence for Alex Scott. Our star man flicks the ball with the outside of his left boot to keep it airborne, before delicately lifting a volley over Neto that dips just under the crossbar and in. Yet another goal to add to the Goal of the Season shortlist for Scott.

From there, we never look back. Bournemouth are a shadow of the team that haunted us throughout the back-end of last year, and we seal the deal with nine minutes to go when Demarai Gray scores his own header, vanquishing our red and black demons and advancing to the next round to face Newcastle.

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Following that cathartic victory, we head to East Yorkshire to face Hull, a side whose single-digit point total after 20 games suggests they’re employing the ‘take the money and run’ approach to life in the Premier League - yet somehow, they’re still above Burnley.

John Ruddy returns in our only change as we look to maintain our 100% record against The Tigers who must be tired after their Carabao Cup semi-final efforts during the week, a competition in which they’ve won more games than in the league.

​

I don’t think words can express just how rubbish this team is.

We’re winning 3-0 by the interval, courtesy of goals from Gray, Gloukh, and Chong, and Moi Elyounoussi has been sent off for crunching through the back of Chong with something more akin to a long jump attempt than a tackle.

You’d think they’d take the time to regroup, refocus, and try to stifle us, trying to catch us on the break, but any hope goes out the window ten minutes into the second half as Regan Slater tries to kick Ian Maatsen into the Humber for their second red card - their fourth in the four games we’ve played against them. Four’s clearly the key number as Gray adds another to our tally a few minutes later and we canter to victory.

Good golly, they’re woeful.

* * * * * * * *
​

We aim to follow-up on our 4-0 by facing the team we beat 5-0 earlier in the season - Southampton. We’ll make no changes to face our 15th-placed visitors in the hope we can maintain this good form.

​

Moments before kick-off, I have a realisation: I’m not scared anymore. I seem to have started viewing us as a top-half Premier League team that are pushing to break into Europe, rather than the newly-promoted fodder that we were expected to be. I now go into games against mid-table clubs expecting to win, convinced that the squad we assembled is more than good enough to drive us up the table, improving in quality as they gain experience at the top level. Yes, I’m still rather scared of the Sky Six, with their enormous revenue streams and access to some of the best players on Earth, but I’m otherwise confident that we can take apart the rest of the league in a way I didn’t expect back in the summer. It’s a marvellous feeling and gives me even more belief that we should make this an easy three points today.

Which is why I’m so disappointed to slump to a 0-0 draw after failing to convert any of our good chances.

At least that’s our sixth clean sheet in a row.

* * * * * * * *
​

What a venue the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium is to visit, it’s as close to Disneyland for a football fan as you’ll find in the UK.

Shame we have to actually play football then.

Spurs have gone from strength to strength under Antonio Conte, winning the Carabao Cup last campaign and leading the way at the top of the table this time out, which shouldn’t be a surprise given the Italian’s ability to get the most out of every club he’s managed. I know he always seems to have a very public meltdown after a few years, but I can’t fathom that happening this time, not at Tottenham.

Given their quality, there’s no way we’re making any changes from the Southampton game as we send our best eleven possible out onto the pitch, hoping to cause the type of upset we’ve started to become known for.

​

I’m pleased to see a reaction to our last outing, the players trying to make amends by taking charge and even grabbing the first goal as Gray smashes in Maatsen’s low cross, then Chong clipping the post from close range.

But the tide changes in the space of three minutes.

Harry Kane stabs in during a goalmouth scramble to bring the hosts level before Son Heung-min can stroke into an empty net after some good work from Marius Wolf on the right. Is this it? Is this where we crumble after going behind to a top team?

No. Far from it.

After some lovely play to work our way through the lines, Gloukh sets Scott free and the midfielder makes no mistake as he slots into the bottom corner. Spurs can’t get into it again once we drop Bielik deeper to play as a third centre-back, frustrated as we steal a point at the league leaders to extend our unbeaten run to nine in all competitions.

* * * * * * * *
​

I’m positively glowing as I make my way to one of our meeting rooms on deadline day to join the recruitment team. We’ve got Manchester UFC to come later today, but their form has fallen off a cliff after their loss to us, so I’m surprisingly confident as we sit level on points with fourth placed Arsenal.

I’m the last to arrive and I hear whispers of excitement as I enter.

“Well,” I start, hanging my coat up and plonking into the only available chair. “Everyone sounds in a good mood.”

“We are,” grins Craig Gardner. “Before we get to that, we just wanted to cover the fact that we’ve agreed to cancel Scott Hogan’s contract, given he’s on nearly £40,000 a week and hasn’t made a single appearance this season, and Malachi Fagan-Walcott has joined Swindon on loan for the rest of the season, so let’s hope he can kick on with his development there.”

“Makes sense to me, good work team,” I reply. There’s a murmur of appreciation from around the table. “Any word on incomings though? I was rather hoping we could get one in before the window shuts.”

“One?” Craig asks with the unmistakable look of someone very excited to share what they’ve been working on. “How about two?”

“And you’re not going to believe who they are.”

* * * * * * * *​

Thank you for reading! Please follow this thread to keep up with the updates, and feel free to follow me on Instagram and Twitter!