Tick, Tock. Tick, Tock.
"Is this a joke?"I spoke aloud, the hair on the back of my spine tingled.
"I can assure you, Mr. Brooking, this is far from a joke." The foreign voice sternly grumbled back to me, "I''m a patient man, but this is a matter that must be hurried along, I need your immediate reply."
"I'm sorry but I need to speak to some people before making the desicion, can you give me a week?" I muttered back, noticably trembling.
"Very well, but I do hope you are not wasting our time, Mr. Brooking."
"I hope I'm not."
The phone went dead.
"Or did I?" I couldn't really understand why they'd approached me, of all the people they could have. I was totally unsuitable for the job, and I knew it. I wouldn't be able to handle that sort of pressure; I'd had no experience at that sort of thing.
I sat back in my armchair, which seemed to squak at me, I'd been gaining alot of weight recently, but that was due to the relatively old age of the chair, I hope. I knew I would let alot of people down either way and that delaying the desicion for longer was only going to make things worse.
The man who had phoned me was one of the richest men in football. Khaldoon Al Mubarak is known for his strict regimes and his firm grasp over his club. This had resulted in the parting of ways between his club, Manchester City, and former manager Roberto Mancini.
He'd offered me £92million in spending money. He tempted me with how the press would react to my rags to riches situation. He tempted me with treble my current wage. He tempted me with the oppurtunity to bring all of my backroom staff with me. It was certainly a tempting offer.
But I had other things on my mind. Only yesterday, I had got home from a hard day at the training pitch and had "February 2011, closer... closer" sprayed on the side of my prize Bentley. It was worrying. Very worrying; and with everything I had to deal with, it came at precisely the wrong time.
I pushed everything outside of football out of my mind, and realised just how big a month this really was. I would be under severe pressure to sell Michael Mancienne and Scott Loach; two lads I didn't want to sell. Michael had just had his 23rd birthday, and I had to get rid of him either this window, or the next, or he'd be going on a free.
Along with everything else, the two legs of the League Cup Semi Final meant we had 8 games this month, leaving us far more fatigued than anyone else in the league. Great. But it would be worth it, we had to make it, we really did. And when we did, it'd be so, so sweet.
In the end, I'd reluctantly rejected the Manchester City offer in favour of our solid League 1 outfit at St. George's Park. Was I mad? It seemed a ridiculous desicion but I came to a heroes welcome on the Tuesday morning after I rejected the offer. The lads had heard Frank Rjikaard had taken over at Eastlands, on Sky Sports News.
I'd seen some brilliant performances in the month of January, and Kwaeme Atta, the young 16 year old midfielder, had produced a stunner of a match to earn himself the match ball against an, albeit laklustre Colchester side. Nile Ranger also pulled out a stonker to net four (yes, four) against Yeovil as we made our way back into the game from 2-0 down.
But best of all was we were headed to Wembley. Aston Villa were to be our opponents and I was hugely excited for the clash. Fabian Delph need no insipiration, facing his former club, and I'm going to make sure he is on the teamsheet. A real chance of silverware, wow. Just wow.
I was delighted that Michael Mancienne wanted to stay. I'd turned down multiple offers from clubs such as Udinese, Wolfsburg, Porto, Celtic and Aston Villa but he remains committed to the St. George cause for as long as he can be. But Scotty L on the other hand seems transfixed with Manchester United after their £2.4m bid. I told them to stick it where the sun don't shine for now. Hopefully they'll be back in the Summer.
And as the days ploughed on, February drew closer and closer. I was beginning to grow weary now. What did all this really mean? The original phone call back in November '09, the constant letters and now the spray painting? Why would someone go to such extreme lengths for me, a mere League 1 manager? So many questions, yet so few answers.
---------- Post added at 01:41 AM ---------- Previous post was at 01:35 AM ----------
What do people reckon, decent update? I tried to get you to think the conversation was with the Spanish guy, sort of. Any feedback would be awesome.