The Alfa Romeo Metaphor

"Hello?"

"Colin?"

"Yeah."

"It's Enrico Pucci. I'm calling to apologize for shrieking at you like a schoolgirl yesterday."

"Oh, thanks mate. It's no problem, really. Heat of the moment and all that."

"Cool. And Loveridge looks like he's fine. His ankle popped rather than sprained."

"That's good to hear for you and bad news for the rest of the league. Dons look nasty this year, like league winning nasty. Best of luck, mate."

"Good luck to you, too. Hope you can pull it out."

"Here's hoping, cheers."

"Ciao."

Click.
 
Friendly: AFC Wimbledon v. Black Country Rangers

View attachment 414166Yet another mid-week friendly for my second stringers.

GK: Daniel Lincoln
D: Cameron Dummigan, Pat Baldwin, Ben Harrison (U18), Kiel Goodwin (U18)
M: Fabian Rowe (U18), Steven Gregory, Harry Pell, Simon Johnson
F: Jack Midson, Jack Redshaw

Pell was utterly useless. Redshaw created himself some opportunities but it's hard to kick the ball when you are choking yourself with both hands. Midson and Johnson looked useful, at least.

It was rather difficult because the Rangers had ten men inside the penalty box and rarely venture out of their half.

Next week I'll bring in a more competitive team, but judging by the way they're playing, they'll lose like against Canvey Island.
 
Thursday, 18 September 2014

I got a text from Gwen that stalker boy was back at the bakery. Would I come by to rescue her? Of course I would. Her shift ended at 6pm so I showed up at ten to. Just in case this happened again, I'd done some research and installed an app that would force pair with someone else's phone without them noticing. Furthermore, as long as their phone was turned on, I'd have access. Furthermore, range wouldn't matter. I figured I'd give it a try with stalker boy.

I saw him from a distance and while I approached the bakery I turned on my new app and tried to pair with his phone. Wow. That was easy. I walked a little slower so I could glance over a few recent texts and look through his photos.

"How's it going, William," I said sitting down across the table from stalker boy. "I see your frequenting your favorite bakery again. How are today's pastries?"

"I ... urrrr ... ummm," he mumbled.

"How's your mom, Alice?" I asked.

"What the **** are you up to, you psychotic arsehole?" he managed to ask.

"Remember, William, I'm not psychotic, I'm a high functioning sociopath," I retorted. "And you didn't answer my question."

"What ****ing question," he said.

"Language, language, language, William. What would Alice, your Mom, say about your dirty little mouth and the stalking of the pretty girls? Hmmm? But my question was how are the pastries?"

"How the **** would I know," he replied.

"Well, you've been sitting here long enough. I figured by now you'd have tried several. And how's your Dad?"

"**** off, old man."

"And what would your Dad, Stephen, say about how you spend your time. What would he find if he searched your phone or the family computer? Would he find any of the pictures you've taken of the pretty girls?"

"**** off," he replied. He was getting flustered.

"Hi," said Gwen. "I'm done. I'm so glad you two have met. Can we leave now?"

"Now William, don't make me visit your Mom and Dad and have a little talk, okay? Been such a pleasure being able to talk like this. Are we clear on everything?"

William was utterly flustered and confused by this point he just sat there getting red in the face. Gwen and I walked over to the Alfa.

"John's got the pictures together and wants to show us," Gwen said as she got in the car.

"Really? Cool."

"Once again, thank you thank you for the rescue," she said. "And by the way, how'd you figure out his name?"

"I hacked his phone," I replied. "Let's go somewhere and have a look at what he's been doing."
 
League Two: AFC Wimbledon v. Northampton Town FC

Here is our first test of the season. We'd lost our captain, how would we respond? In comes Pat Baldwin. His moment to shine.

I was planning on giving Lincoln a game mainly because Northampton are toward the bottom of the table and look toothless. Then he pulls me aside before practice and asks why I haven't started him. "Funny you should bring this up, but I was planning to start you this Saturday," I said to him.

GK: Daniel Lincoln
D: Reuben Hazell, Kris Thackray, Pat Baldwin, James Fenlon
M: George Frampton, Mark Tomlinson, Daniel Barlaser, Matteo Nole
F: James Loveridge, Michael Smith

Subs: Chris Dunn (GK), Cameron Dummigan (D), Ben Harrison (D), Steven Gregory (M), Simon Johnson (M), Jack Midson (F), Jack Redshaw (F)

"Northampton come roaring out of the gates, so don't let them catch us out in the first fifteen," I said to begin my team talk. "We'll step up the pressure and attack them all out in the second half when, statistically speaking, they give up the majority of their goals."

"They play a 442 Diamond formation so I think Mark and Daniel will have their opposing midfielders nearer to them throughout the match," I said. "This means we just need to move the ball quicker."

"Bottom line," I said in conclusion. "Is just relax and play our game, the result will come."

I was right about them coming on hard to begin the match, Lincoln was called upon the make a diving save inside the first minute from a thunderous header from their striker Chris Beardsley. Fenlon was going to be busy all day with their right midfielder Roy O'Donovan.

We then brought the ball upfield and Danny Boy sent in Matteo who hit the keeper from a bad angle. The ball went out for a corner.

Then both teams settle into trench warfare in the middle of the pitch. It was a hard slog because our central pairing were always near their central pairing and tackles were flying. The had decided to talk it out with players rather than wave yellow cards around.

Smith had his shirt held (no card, but a warning) in the 21st minute about 25 yards out in the middle. Francomb teed up the ball and waited for the whistle. George got his shot over the wall, he even got it to dip. But he hit it right at the keeper. Easy save in the end.

In the 23rd, Danny played a pass up to Smith again. He spun his defender and ran goalward. Their keeper did a great job parrying the ball wide for a corner.

George played the corner short and Danny dribbled into the penalty box. Beat one defender and shot, but it was blocked and cleared.

We were starting to dominate the match.

In the 29th minute, another ball from Danny to Smith. This time Smith played it out to Francomb who beat his defender and whipped in a near post cross. Smith header whizzed just over the crossbar.

In the 32nd minute, Danny played a pass out to Nole on the left. Nole played a pass up to Loveridge who saw the three defenders in front of him and the single one marking Smith and chipped it over to Smith who headed it right at the goalkeeper.

In the 33rd we won a corner and George played another short corner that went nowhere. Danny dribbled into the box just like before but this time slipped a pass out to Matteo who tried a long range shot. A defender charged it down, blocked it and Northampton were away on the counter.

Fenlon saved the day with a well-timed sliding tackle. We easily dealt with the resulting corner.

After trying for several minutes to cross the ball in from the right (Francomb was shockingly unsuccessful), Northampton broke on the counter. As Beardsley trotted into our half, Thackray leapt at him with a two-footed tackle that you might even be able to characterize as a kung fu style tackle. It was ludicrous. What the **** was he thinking.

The ref raced over while trying to find his cards. I hoped it wasn't going to be, but it was. He came to a stop waving a red card over Thack's head. I looked at the clock. 41 minutes gone. I'd have to substitute.

"Your on, Cam," I said. Cam started stripping off his track suit.

Thacks walked right past me, I didn't even look at him. What the **** did he think the ref was going to do in this day and age when the two-footed tackle had been outlawed from the game?

I took Loveridge off. We'd play a 441. Cam would play right back and Haz would slide into the middle.

We continued to dominate and won a corner in the 43 minute.

"GEORGE, DANNY, NO SHORT BALL!" I yelled. "NO SHORT BALL. GET IT INTO THE BOX!"

So what did George do? Played the short ball to Danny who jogged into the box with the ball and had his shot blocked.

"Studs up tackles will always get you red carded nowadays," I said once everyone was in the locker room. "Even if you get the ball. Point your toe and go in with one foot."

"We can still dominate," I continued. "Matteo and George, attack your fullbacks. You can beat them and whip in crosses for Smith."

"Attack from the dribble, Matteo," I said in Italian. "Provide Smith with some crosses."

"Danny, you have more leeway to get forward in support of Smith," I continued in English. "And no more short corners, got it? Get the ball into the middle on corners."

Soon after the kickoff, we won a corner. Danny and George tried yet another short corner despite what I'd said. I didn't say anything. I'd deal with them tomorrow.

Matteo just wasn't running at his defenders. I don't understand why not. He's several degrees faster and is an excellent dribbler. Maybe we need to work with him on booting it past the defenders and outracing him to the ball. Regardless, we attacked through the middle with Danny Boy or down the right.

Then in the 54th minute, their left back scissored down Francomb. Ref gave the foul, but no card. I yelled at the ref and berated the fourth official for a while. Hanks got Simon Johnson warming up.

George wasn't moving very well and so I replaced him with Johnson in the 59th minute. I would have preferred to replace Matteo, but now I didn't have a choice. Plus with this ref, I figured I' better save my last sub til late just in case.

We continued to press the game but had no luck. Northampton continued to break occasionally on the counter, but we dealt with it well every time.

In the 74th minute, Danny Boy tripp up a Northampton player. The ref warned him and they restarted the play. They worked the ball up the right and O'Donovan beat Fenlon. Fenlon had Baldwin backing him up so I don't understand why he did what he did, but he lunged in with a desperation tackler from behind. He mistimed it and only caught O'Donovan's ankle.

Surely a yellow card. The first of the match.

Nope.

Straight red.

My palm met my face.

As the crowd whistled and booed, I pointed at Steven Gregory.

"Okay, you're going in for Matteo," I told him. "We're going to play a 431. You're going to play left back. We have to hold them off for 15 minutes."

"Got it,"View attachment 413932 he replied.

We managed to hold them off. Lincoln made several acrobatic saves.

This had turned into a hideous afternoon. I was quite worried about having three of my starting four defenders out for the next three or four matches. This could suck if the FA decided to add to their suspensions.

Was my team really this dirty? We led the league in yellow cards coming into the match and I'm sure we'd be leading the league in red cards after today.
View attachment 413931
 
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Sunday, 21 September 2014

"Fkn A," I said. "What a bizarre match, eh?"

"And what is going on with the short corners?" Matt Woolley asked shaking his head.

"It was amazing," Hanks added. "Why should our defenders come up if we're never going to play a corner in?"

"We'll address that," I said. "And I'll talk to Thacks and Fens about the red cards."

"i'm concerned about our wide play," Wools said. "Suddenly, Matteo and Geo and Simon can't cross a ball for their life. At least in matches. You've all seen 'em in training."

"And Smith is 6'4" so we should at least lob a couple in his direction," I added. "I don't want to go totally Moyes Mental with our crossing, but a varying our attack would be helpful. We're playing straight through the middle with Danny too much."

"How much of it is the opposing midfielder dropping back to help and daring us to attack up the gut?" Rachubka asked. "And how much is mental?"

"Why not work with Matteo on doing an Overmars?" Dave Wilson said. He's our fitness guy. "You know, punt n run?"

"You've got a point," Wools replied. "But what about Geo? He never beats his man to the end line anymore and whips in a cross. I don't get it."

"Let's me and you work with them, okay Wools?" I asked. He nodded.

"I've booked another friendly for Tuesday," I continued. "After yesterday's result, everyone's playing a half."

"And great job Paul getting Lincoln ready for his big debut."

"Yeah, he did pretty well, didn't he?" Rachubka said. "But the whole defense played well those last 15, too."

Everyone nodded.
 
View attachment 413572Question for my readers:

Suddenly my wingers and fullbacks won't cross the ball! It's nuts! Why?

First: is this a bug? I've never seen anything like this in playing FM for all these many years.

Matteo Nole - Dribbling 13, crossing 16, Acc 16, Pace 14
George Frampton - Dribbling 12, crossing 10
Simon Johnson - Dribbling 10, crossing 13

I setthe left side players aiming for the far post and right side players aiming near post. The reason is 6'4" Smith isView attachment 413571 the right-sided striker. I've removed this setting.

George, for example, will beat his man and instead of crossing wait for the defender to catch up to him and try to bounce it off his shins. In some ways I get it. George isn't that talented, but even when he does cross it's only after everyone is standing around in the box cuz he's been fkn around in the corner rather than crossing when the timing was right.

Matteo will only pass back to Danny, the left-sided central mid, or to Fenlon who is overlapping. Because he's so fast and so awesome on the ball, when he does get around his man he dribbles into the teeth of the defense. He's rather useless shooting so I'd rather have him cross.

I'm playing a 442 with the following Team settings:

View attachment 413569
 
Friendly: AFC Wimbledon v. Malden & Tiptree

View attachment 413396This time I need a friendly against a local semi-pro club to break some of my first stringers of some bad habits. Wools and I worked with the Matteo, George, Simon and Fabian Rowe (the kid who thinks he should be a first teamer) on their crossing. Mainly on when and that they really ought to cross the ball.

Also, I wanted to make sure we'd sorted out our problems with corners.

GK: Daniel Lincoln
D: Cameron Dummigan, Reuben Hazell, Pat Baldwin, Ben Harrison
M: George Francomb, Mark Tomlinson, Daniel Barlaser, Simon Johnson
F: James Loveridge, Michael Smith

I also wanted to give Simon a chance to show me what he could do playing with the first team.

Everyone stood and watched M&T score. Everyone was lined up on the penalty box line for a long ball free kick. They played a low ball in and one of their players got there first and everyone stood there and watched him shoot past Lincoln.

Daniel Barlaser pulled up clutching his hamstring in the 10th minute. I sent Pell on to replace him.

Smith couldn't get any of his shots on goal. Lovey should have scored 4 or 5.

Matteo played great in the second half with the second stringers and Simon didn't do much with the first XI.

And that third goal was really Fenlon's. Just sayin' ...
 
As I walked out the stadium entrance, someone was leaning against the Alfa. I had never thought about it, but the player's parking area was quite dark. Okay, the person was too thin to be Gianluca. You remember Gianluca don't you? He's my ex-cousin-in-law, the Lieutenant in the Camorra.

No, I think it's a woman.

Oh, sweet Mary mother of God, it's Gwen. What the **** is she doing here? As I get closer she doesn't wave or anything. She remains leaning against the car. Okay, now I'm curious. WTF is going on?

"Hi," I say as I walk right up to her. She's still leaning against the Alfa.

Then she straightens up and leans forward.

"Happy birthday," she whispers in my ear.

"UhhhHHHHhhh," I groan. My palm meets my face. I'd completely forgotten my birthday.
 
Wednesday, 24 September 2014

"Boss, can I have a word," Fabian Rowe said.

The New Malden locker room was nearly clear.

"Sure, Fabian, what's up?" I replied.

"I want this to stay between you and me, but I need to say that I should be getting some first team football and I might have to leave unless things improve."

"Okay," I replied. "We've already discussed this once. You're a back-up. I have you playing each week with the U18s to make sure you develop your game. Mark Robinson has been keeping me posted on how your playing with the U18s when I can't watch myself. You haven't done anything exceptional for the U18s and you haven't played better than the three wingers ahead of you in the friendlies against semi-pro teams."

"I just feel it's time for me to leave, I can see you don't want to give me playing time," he replied.

What a steaming pile of ****. What an overblown sense of entitlement. Seen it before, but usually players with some talent which Fabian hasn't demonstrated he has.

"No, you haven't shown me that I have to play you," I replied. "No coach is going to play you because you moan to them for playing time. You have to earn it and you have shown me that you're quite unprofessional."

"Maybe I am being unprofessional, but I have to do what's best for my career," I said.

"I think we should leave this discussion for later, maybe after you've shown my that you deserve to play."

"Fine, but I'm not happy with how you've dealt with this."

Whatever kid, I think as I watch him strut out of the locker room. Brentford thought so highly of you that they released you. I bring you here, you complain about how hard I make you train then repeatedly moan about not getting playing time.

Do I tell him that his **** work ethic and sense of entitlement are going to wash him out of this game?
 
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Wednesday, September 24 2014

Now I have some real problems. Too few defenders and now my midfield playmaker.

Adam Pepper isn't fit enough to play more than 30 minutes. Harry Pell has shown he's useless. My only choice is to play Steven Gregory. He's a decent enough passer.

In defense, Cameron Dummigan is best at right fullback, but can play left. Reuben Hazell and Pat Baldwin can play in the center and at right back. Ben Harrison is a 18 year old, but playing him worries me. He can play at center back or left back, but he's really slow. Slow to read the game and slow footed.

"Enrico," Sean Hankin says. "You've forgotten that Geo can play right back in a pinch."

"Francomb can play right back?" I said. I'd totally forgotten. "Boy I'm glad I keep you around, Hanks."

So Simon Johnson starts at right midfield with Matteo out left.
 
WOMBLEblog.co.uk
How will the Dons line up against Exeter?

Thrash
26 September 2014 17:47

View attachment 413256View attachment 413257When the Excreters arrive at The Fan's Stadium - Kingsmeadow from deepest, darkest Devonshire, who will they line up against? A combination of suspensions and injuries have shorn the Dons of three key defenders and the teenage playmaker who has been pulling strings of the highest scoring club in League Two.

Let's review the situation and begin up top. Michael Smith and James Loveridge will continue to lead the line. This is the only certain thing. Whether they will continue to receive the same service they've come to expect is another debate entirely.

Pucci took over from Ardley in June and bought Adam Pepper to be our playmaker. It's ironic that Pucci's only purchase has been a dud. With Pepper floundering, he gambled on Daniel Barlaser. The lad has done no less than feed our strikers a steady diet of slide rule passes as we've climbed to 2nd. But now Barlaser is out a month with a injured hamstring.

Pepper is just coming back from injury so we can rule him out.

After playing so well for us last year, Harry Pell is utterly bereft of anything resembling confidence. No chance he'll play. That leaves Steven Gregory who had been dropped after the loss to Scunthorpe for his inability to protect the back four and tackle anyone ever. It couldn't be Drissa Dabre who rarely plays in training friendlies and never even makes the bench so far under Pucci.

But the defense is where the questions are. Captain Andy Frampton is out with a sports hernia. Both James Fenlon and Kris Thackray are out for 3 matches for a little ultraviolence in last Saturday against North-of-Hope-ton.

Reuben Hazell has been playing at right back lately. After Scunthorpe, Pucci must be afraid to play him in the middle. Now he has no choice but to play him there. He'll be joined by Pat Baldwin who's only start was the horror show against Wolves in the League Cup.

That leaves Pucci with Cameron Dummigan, the Northern Irish teenager, at fullback. Despite all the miracles and etc. that occur regularly on the Emerald Isle, no Irishman has yet played both fullback positions in the modern era. So somebody from the youth team is going to have to step up.

And this is when my bowels start rumbling and my sphincter puckers.

Now the pelt-wearing troglodytes from deepest, darkest Devonshire are not having a good season so far. 17th place in League Two is nothing to brag about. We know. We were in the same boat last season. But a reasonably decent trog from Devonshire is going to have a field day against some fresh-faced lad with freshly blooming acne that Pucci has ripped from his mother's arms and thrown in at fullback.

Unless, of course, Pucci can unearth another Barlaser. We'll all find out when we read the match day programme tomorrow. See you then.
 
League Two: AFC Wimbledon v. Exeter City FC

The man thought it wiser this time to risk having a conversation with his ex-wife than getting injured when his son launched himself from the top step. So he rang the bell and waited. He heard her voice and his son's. He heard the footsteps thundering from somewhere.

She opened the door and before either could say anything, their progeny erupted out the door.

"Bye, Mum!" he yelled.

The man turned and saw the boy was wearing his Wimbledon hat and trailing his scarf. He turned to see if his ex-wife had anything to say. She didn't. She just shut the door.

"C'mon, Dad, leth go get Gwampa! C'mon!"

As per usual, his son explained his latest computer games and playground politics. The grandfather heard all about it, too.

Then they were parked and walking or bouncing as the case may be under the Kingsmeadow arch and into the stadium.

The two adults examined their match day programmes once they were seated.

"Hmm, that's interesting," the grandfather said.

"What Francomb at right back?"

"That and the young lad Lincoln is between the posts again," the grandfather added.

They repeated the last names of the Wimbledon players when they were announced and booed the opponents.

"C'mon you Dons!" yelled the grandfather when the first ten minutes of the game were spent in Wimbledon's end.

"No, not Route One," the father grumbled as a Wimbledon launched yet another long ball forward for the forwards to chase.

"Well, at least their not giving them any real chances," the grandfather noted after the first twenty minutes passed with Exeter dominating the game.

"C'mon pass it out of the back!" the grandfather yelled after the left back Cameron Dummigan hoisted a ball clear.

"We got it!" the grandson squealed as Loveridge ran under the ball and perfectly controlled it.

"GO! GO! GO!" everyone in the main stand chanted as Loveridge jinked past the Exeter central defender and raced goalward.

Then there was a sharp intake of breathe as Loveridge tried to chip the keeper.

"GOLLLLLLLLLLLLLL" the boy squealed as he jumped into his Dad's arms. He high-fived with grandfather.

They were still serenading Loveridge when they all promptly stopped singing and started booing. An Exeter defender had chopped down Michael Smith.

"FOUL! YELLOW CARD!" the grandfather yelled.

"I've got a good feeling about this," the father said as George Francomb placed the ball about 25 yards from goal dead center.

The crowd went silent in anticipation. Francomb waited for the ref to blow the whistle. Tweet! Francomb ran up, the wall jumped. Francomb sent a low ball underneath the wall that nicked off somebody in the wall and wrong-footed the keeper.

"TWO NIHW!!" shrieked the son.

"That was brilliant," the father said to the grandfather. "Under the wall. Don't see that often."

"We held them really well," the grandfather observed to his son and grandson as they filed out to get their customary half time snack.

"Yeah, hardly miss all the regulars," the father agreed.

"Can I have a hot dog?" the son asked his father. The father nodded.

"We go top if this score and the York score hold," the father said consulting his phone while they were in line at the concession stand. "York are losing one-nil at half time to Dagenham & Redbridge."

"There is always hope," the grandfather said.

They were late getting back to their seats. The grandson had to pee. As they walked out of the tunnel, Mark Tomlinson hit a high Route One ball over Smith's head. Smith took off running. He ran under the ball and let it hit him on the back. Miraculously, the ball hit his shoulder blade just right and bounced into his path so he didn't even need to break stride. The entire crowd Ooohed. As he was about to shoot a defender intervened with a desperate, diving tackle and saved a third goal.

"Wow!" the father exclaimed applauding.

"I haven't seen anything like that since Gascoigne did that with Lazio!" the grandfather said joining the applause.

"That wath mental!" shrieked the boy clapping with the wild abandon of a child.

Then they walked to their seats.

"Is it me or are Exeter just wasting time with all their possession?" the father remarked near the sixty minute mark in the game.

"Check the York match," the grandfather requested.

View attachment 413096"Still one-nil," the father replied.

"Give it to Smith! THOOT! THOOT!" the boy squealed in the 70th minute. Then all three joined the cheering as Smith smashed a 10 yard shot off the keeper and into the net for Wimbledon's third.

"Have you lost any more teeth?" the grandfather asked after he heard the distinct lisp from this grandson.

"No."

They sang, chanted, cheered and booed as appropriate as the Dons ground out the remaining twenty minutes.

"That wath gweat!" the grandson said as they walked under the Kingsmeadow sign towards the father's car. "We killed them. Smith wath awethum."

Both men nodded in agreement.
 
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