Hi guys. Here's an explanation to followers of my Blackpool story. I went on holiday for my birthday as I said, and when I returned, I had a brand new laptop sitting on my bed! So I've spent the last few days setting it up and getting a new copy of FM, I have a new skin and new updates and stuff. I've never done lower leagues and I though it would be fun, so I've gone Wrexham, as my Grandma is from there and she always goes on about how her dad went to the games every saturday and brought her back a chippie. I'll be doing this as a narrative with results incorparated. Hope you all enjoy it.
16th August 2007
Everton u18s vs Man United u18s
We were up against it, no doubt about that. We were strong, but United had some amazing players coming through. They boasted the most prolific strike force in the league, with Federico Macheda and Danny Welbeck the upfront partnership. But, we had the likes of Jack Rodwell, on the verge of breaking through to the first team. Jose Baxter, who boasted the label "The next Michael Owen". We had a chance. We could be champions.
A little about me. My name is Rob Caldwell* and I had a future. I was an old fashioned centre half. I was named the academy player of the year in 2006. I had been offered big money by Chelsea, Real Madrid and Barcelona to join their academies, but I loved Everton. I was a local lad, I grew up on Gwladys Street, the street that gave the name to Everton's season ticket holders stand. I was there every Saturday with my dad, cheering on the lads. My mum died when I was one, so my dad is all I've had. Big Dunc was my hero. When I got my academy contract, my dad cried. He said he'd never been happier, not even when I was born or on his wedding day. David Moyes came to my house and told me to make a cuppa. I listened in on what he said to my dad.
"Mr Caldwell, your son is special. He is. He could become our next captain. England's next captain maybe. I haven't been this excited about a player since I first saw Wayne Rooney play. Look after him. He'll be one of the best."
I made the tea with tears in my eyes. I could be the best!
On the day of the match, we knew if we won, the title was ours. David Moyes was in the stands. He gave me a knowing wink, as if to say "Our next captain". He knew. I was going to win this match for him. And Dad. He was in the front row.
We started brightly, with a sumptuous drive by Baxter only just diverted round the post by Ben Amos and left back Jake Bidwell's deflected cross hitting the bar. Our goal finally came when a Rodwell corner bounced around in the box like a game of pinball - until it fell to me. I unleashed a rocket into the top corner, and the lads mobbed me.There were tears in Dad's eyes. What a softie.
We held on and held on. But in the last minute my life changed forever.
Macheda stole a march on my center back partner James Bale and went one-on-one with the goalie. I sprinted back to try and cover. Macheda, the cheeky ******, knocked it through the keepers legs and went to celebrate. I rushed through and slid on the floor, and managed to hook the ball of the line. But I careered into the post and I heard a crack in my leg. I looked at my leg and saw the white of human bone protruding. I knew then, my career was over.
17th August 2007
St. Luke's Hospital, Liverpool
"Doctor, just tell me straight. Put me out of my misery." I said, all the life gone out of me.
"I'm so sorry, Rob. You won't play again. Your ankle ligaments practically don't exist. You'll need to walk with a cane for a while, and...
I blocked him out. All that hard work, the training, the missing out on fun with mates to stay an extra hour to train, for nothing. And the worst part was, I had no-one to blame. I broke down. I cried and cried, till the box of tissues were empty. My team mates turned up with my u18s winners medal and our player of the season award, but I didn't care. What were they worth now? Just an ego trip. Something I could look back on at 50 and say "I did win something." I knew where it was going when I got home. Under the bed, where no-one could see it. I dropped into a deep depression. With no qualifications, no ambitions, no hope, I thought about suicide. But Dad put me straight.
"Son, I know what happened is terrible, and it cut you up. But, don't you still love football? Our beautiful game, the game we love. Don't you still want to be a part of it?"
"How, Dad? I can't play again. I can't be a coach, I can only run 10 yards."
"You could manage. Work your way up. Start low. Kit boy or something like that. Earn it. An' one day, you'll get there. I know you. You're a fighter. You gave your career to win your team the league. You can do anything son. I know it. You know it. And your Ma in heaven knows it. That which does not kill us makes us stronger. Remember that."
He was right. I was going to make it. I was going to recover. I was going to come back, stronger and more determined than ever. Rob Caldwell. Remember the name.
*Not my real name
Is everyone enjoying the story? I put a lot of work into it.
16th August 2007
Everton u18s vs Man United u18s
We were up against it, no doubt about that. We were strong, but United had some amazing players coming through. They boasted the most prolific strike force in the league, with Federico Macheda and Danny Welbeck the upfront partnership. But, we had the likes of Jack Rodwell, on the verge of breaking through to the first team. Jose Baxter, who boasted the label "The next Michael Owen". We had a chance. We could be champions.
A little about me. My name is Rob Caldwell* and I had a future. I was an old fashioned centre half. I was named the academy player of the year in 2006. I had been offered big money by Chelsea, Real Madrid and Barcelona to join their academies, but I loved Everton. I was a local lad, I grew up on Gwladys Street, the street that gave the name to Everton's season ticket holders stand. I was there every Saturday with my dad, cheering on the lads. My mum died when I was one, so my dad is all I've had. Big Dunc was my hero. When I got my academy contract, my dad cried. He said he'd never been happier, not even when I was born or on his wedding day. David Moyes came to my house and told me to make a cuppa. I listened in on what he said to my dad.
"Mr Caldwell, your son is special. He is. He could become our next captain. England's next captain maybe. I haven't been this excited about a player since I first saw Wayne Rooney play. Look after him. He'll be one of the best."
I made the tea with tears in my eyes. I could be the best!
On the day of the match, we knew if we won, the title was ours. David Moyes was in the stands. He gave me a knowing wink, as if to say "Our next captain". He knew. I was going to win this match for him. And Dad. He was in the front row.
We started brightly, with a sumptuous drive by Baxter only just diverted round the post by Ben Amos and left back Jake Bidwell's deflected cross hitting the bar. Our goal finally came when a Rodwell corner bounced around in the box like a game of pinball - until it fell to me. I unleashed a rocket into the top corner, and the lads mobbed me.There were tears in Dad's eyes. What a softie.
We held on and held on. But in the last minute my life changed forever.
Macheda stole a march on my center back partner James Bale and went one-on-one with the goalie. I sprinted back to try and cover. Macheda, the cheeky ******, knocked it through the keepers legs and went to celebrate. I rushed through and slid on the floor, and managed to hook the ball of the line. But I careered into the post and I heard a crack in my leg. I looked at my leg and saw the white of human bone protruding. I knew then, my career was over.
17th August 2007
St. Luke's Hospital, Liverpool
"Doctor, just tell me straight. Put me out of my misery." I said, all the life gone out of me.
"I'm so sorry, Rob. You won't play again. Your ankle ligaments practically don't exist. You'll need to walk with a cane for a while, and...
I blocked him out. All that hard work, the training, the missing out on fun with mates to stay an extra hour to train, for nothing. And the worst part was, I had no-one to blame. I broke down. I cried and cried, till the box of tissues were empty. My team mates turned up with my u18s winners medal and our player of the season award, but I didn't care. What were they worth now? Just an ego trip. Something I could look back on at 50 and say "I did win something." I knew where it was going when I got home. Under the bed, where no-one could see it. I dropped into a deep depression. With no qualifications, no ambitions, no hope, I thought about suicide. But Dad put me straight.
"Son, I know what happened is terrible, and it cut you up. But, don't you still love football? Our beautiful game, the game we love. Don't you still want to be a part of it?"
"How, Dad? I can't play again. I can't be a coach, I can only run 10 yards."
"You could manage. Work your way up. Start low. Kit boy or something like that. Earn it. An' one day, you'll get there. I know you. You're a fighter. You gave your career to win your team the league. You can do anything son. I know it. You know it. And your Ma in heaven knows it. That which does not kill us makes us stronger. Remember that."
He was right. I was going to make it. I was going to recover. I was going to come back, stronger and more determined than ever. Rob Caldwell. Remember the name.
*Not my real name
Is everyone enjoying the story? I put a lot of work into it.
