The Alfa Romeo Metaphor

Home cooking

I called a light practice for late afternoon, 5pm. I just wanted the players to get any sore muscles massaged, some jogging and review some tactical stuff.

I watched the noon game results come in on my iPhone, but it was the late games that mattered. Linense (2nd), Ecija (3rd and our next opponent) and and Albacete (4th) could all overtake us with good results. Only Ecija managed to get any points and it was only a draw.

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We were in second, but I can't really say I care because it's only four matches into the season. We're winning on the road and that's ALWAYS good.

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But here's the real deal. We're at home for the next four matches. I'm confident the loss in the home opener was a blip and we can continue to roll. Well ... we ****ing better.

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Paco and I sat down with our Chief Scout Jose Manuel Barla right after training ended. He gave us the low-down on our next opponents, Ecija.

"Attacking-wise, I think they're weakest down their left flank," Jose began. "In other words, Kike Lopez should have some fun. Their left back, Antonio Ramirez, has been transfer-listed. Maybe a falling out between him and the manager."

"Also, we're fairly equal defensively and in the midfield," he continued. "But I really think our forwards are better than theirs. They primarily rely on Javi Lopez and, even though they play a 442, they don't really have anyone dangerous to pair him with or anyone to complement him."

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"Are you encouraging us to become overconfident?" Paco teased.

Jose was about to defend himself, I raised a hand.

"You don't have to answer that," I said with a smirk. "Listen, I get it. We have a good chance against them. We're at home. Overconfidence is Paco's and my problem, right?"

Paco smiled and nodded.
 
Flowers

I sent Ana Maria flowers. A bouquet of yellow flowers. I thought this was the best thing to do. Both Paco and Margarita agree that it's the best tactic. We'll see ...
 
"Esteban, my man, I didn't see you in the stands up in Guadalajara," I said as I strolled in to get my customary Tuesday shave. "Roberto, how's it going?"

"I was there, yes, I was," Esteban replied as he finished up shaving another customer. Roberto nodded.

"That was quite a fun match, was it not?"

"Very much so," he replied. "The Guados are going to have a rough season. My cousins say that it's the manager. Half the team is angry with him, the other half couldn't give the least ****."

"And the other half don't know their *** from a hat rack," Robert injected.

"Finished," Esteban exclaimed and whipped the cover and towels off the man underneath. "Carlos, meet the manager of Cadiz, Enrico Pucci. My most famous customer."

"Until we start losing," I said as I sat down. "Pleasure to meet you, Carlos."

"Then I cut his throat," Esteban stated as Carlos paid up.

Once the shaving got underway, Esteban got right down to what he wanted to know most.

"Did you send the flowers?"

"Yes."

"Good," he replied. "And you put your name and phone on it like I told you?"

"Yes."

"Good," he replied. "She'll call you. Mark my word. I know true love when I see it. At least from your side, anyways."

My phone jangled in my pocket. I looked at Esteban. He stopped shaving.

"Well," he asked and stepped back. "Do you need to take this one?"

I pulled my phone out. The caller wasn't in my Contacts.

"Answer it, you imbecile," he shouted at me. "It's probably her. Don't blow it."

"Hello?" I said. "Yes. Yes, it's Enrico." I winked at Esteban who pumped his fist in exultation. "Well, hello, Ana Maria. No, it's fine. I'm just waiting at the barber's for a shave. Well, I hoped you would and I'm glad you liked them. Yes. Ha, yes. I'm very glad. Could we meet for drinks or dinner or both? Yes? Wonderful. I'm free all week though tomorrow would be a bit later. Yes, after the match. Of course tomorrow is fine. Where? I don't know the restaurants so well but I could figure that out. Yes. Yes, I know that one. I haven't been but I've been told to go there. Eleven should be fine. I very much look forward to it. Yes. What? Oh, yes, of course. Ciao."

Esteban started doing what must be his victory dance.

"Did I tell you?" he shouted. "Did I tell you?"

"She's the perfect woman, Esteban," I said.

Esteban paused and stared at me.

"Then I'd better do an exceptional job on you," he said. "I love helping people fall in love."

The barbershop was unusually silent as Esteban completed his task.

"Finished!" he proclaimed. "With a shave like that, you will not only win over your perfect woman, you will beat Ecija. But I predict it will be difficult. Unlike Ana Maria. She will be wonderful."

I paid up.

"Now off with you," he said. "Tell me all about it on Friday."
 
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Round 5: Cadiz CF v. Ecija Balompie

It was a marvelous night in Cadiz. A breeze swirled around the stadium and, like always in September, the temperature was pleasant. But it was a weeknight and only 7,000 or so Cadistas turned up. A quarter full is better than empty. Oh, well. Ecija is not Valencia or Barca or Atletico or Real.

I picked the same side as played against El Guado on the weekend. If I needed to rest anyone, I'd do so at the weekend; Cacereno are a weaker side.

GK: Alejandro
D: Dalmau, Chara, Belforti, Andres
M: Kike Lopez, Nafti, Luque, Perico
F: Airam, Souda

Subs: Tomas (LB), Josete (D/M), Bruninho (M), Villar (M/F) and Kike Marquez (M/F)

I'd told Kike Lopez that he was going to have a busy day at the office. Bruninho was on the bench though I only wanted to use him at the end of the game to hold a lead.

The boys trudged out onto the field for the ceremonial handshake as the Cadistas sang:
"Alcohol alcohol alcohol, we came here to get drunk and the result doesn't matter!"
​

I thought they looked nervous. They'd blown that first home match and we all so badly wanted to succeed in front of our fans.

They were nervous. They made me nervous. They couldn't connect a pass. Nearly gave up a goal in the 2nd minute, but thankfully, Ecija's star striker Javi Lopez hit the side netting. I looked at Paco. He looked nervous.

That scare woke them up. The brought the ball upfield from the ensuing goal kick (Alejandro played it short) and we camped in the Ecija half. A defender caught Luque's ankle about 25 meters out. The ref blew for the foul. As every time that Luque gets fouled, I said a quick prayer as he got up. He was fine.

The free kick was slightly left of center. He positioned the ball and then stared at the wall. Belforti and Nafti positioned themselves at the right edge of the wall like we'd worked on yesterday. They were to jostle the wall and then duck if Luque chose to shoot far post. Airam was prancing around in front of the wall, trying to disrupt the keeper's view of Luque just like we'd worked on yesterday.

Luque took his first step in his three step run up, Belforti pushed the defender next to him. Nafti looked scared and was about to duck. Airam jumped in the air and waved his arms just like we'd worked on yesterday.

Luque drilled the ball directly into the wall. The defender who took it in the chest was knocked over. The ball popped directly back to Luque who sent the ball directly through the hole that had opened up in the wall into a wide open net. It turns out their keeper had dived far post.

1-0

Sometimes you create your own luck.

We pressed Ecija really hard and they promptly gave the ball back to us after the restart. We marched down the field and Perico set up Souda who blasted over the top.

The goalkeeper lofted his kick into the center circle. Nafti won the header and it fell to the feet of Kike Lopez. Lopez took off towards the opponents goal but quickly fed a pass into the path of Airam ahead of him. Airam was cutting across his defender touched the ball once then twice and drilled a near post laser beam from the top of the penalty area. The ball started out chest high but dipped. The goalie really should have had that one. No goalie should give up near post goals from open play.

2-0

We were rolling. It was flowing. We were in The Zone. I raised an eyebrow as I wondered how many we'd score at this rate.

Then Ecija promptly went down to the other end and scored. It was pathetic.

Their midfielder played a ball up to Jose Luis Plata, their other, rather useless forward. Nafti dove just in front and toe poked the pass away. Unfortunately, it fell to their left outside midfielder Manu Reina. Reina took off from ten yards int our half. Dalmau dropped off to give him space. Chara did the same. I wanted to cover my eyes. Not again. Not more non-defending defending. Not more of the same **** that makes Aleja Indias, the defense coach, to turn purple with rage.

Nafti was storming back as fast as he could and screaming at Dalmau and Chara to step up and slow Reina down. They didn't. Just as Nafti leapt to attempt a desperation tackle from behind, Reina smashed the ball past Alejandro's post.

2-1

It was now a mere 15 minutes into the match. In 4 minutes, there had been 3 goals. I looked at Paco.

"Basketball?" Paco asked me.

"****ing basketball," I said shaking my head and looking at the ground. It was going to be a long night.

Alejandro screamed at his defenders to start behaving like men. Chara, in particular, hung his head. Alejandro was livid. I glanced over at Aleja. He was purple.

Suddenly, we were nervous again. We couldn't hold the ball for long. Thankfully, Nafti was everywhere and shut down anything they started to build. When he wasn't able to shut them down, we looked vulnerable. Ecija wasn't playing particularly well, either.

With 30 minutes gone, Andres took another knock. His second of the game and on his right leg again. Michel sprinted out to check him out. I could see the gash on his leg. I immediately pointed at Tomas. He started warming up. I yelled at the ref first as he hadn't carded the Ecija right winger. I yelled at the fourth official, too. A lot of good that did. Andres evening was done.

As the fourth official checked over Tomas and put the numbers into his board, I got Belforti and Chara's attention. First, I made the universal signal for them to calm down. Aleja had gotten off the bench, too. I signaled that they should push up. Aleja, pretending I was an opposing forward, demonstrated that they should be right up with the forward and shouldn't let him turn. Belforti gave us a thumb's up.

He may or may not have understood what we tried to communicate. The defense looked vulnerable whenever Ecija stormed forward with the ball. It's not like they were faster than us or they were awe-inspiring dribblers. It's just that we defended like we were on the verge of panicking. Which we were.

We made it to halftime 2-1. I don't know how other than Ecija blew a couple of good chances. I didn't have anymore fingernails left. WTF was I going to do in the second half with myself?

Paco was immediately by my side as we trudged toward the changing room. I shook my head in disbelief.

"Well?" I asked him.

"Hmmph," was all he said. "Scream at them?"

This was going to be a tricky halftime talk. I needed them to focus. I needed the defenders to play tighter, with smaller gaps between them. Ecija weren't attacking down the flanks. The wingers were heading straight inside. What did their scout see in the way we played? Well, they knew that if they got past Nafti our defenders were apt to panic.

I ruled out screaming at them. I'd save that for when we were losing and needed a wake-up. I'd stick to encouraging them and telling them that I had faith that they could tighten up the defense and keep the ball for long stretches. We had been having good second halves so far this season.

The players responded with the start of the second half. When Lopez received a pass with his back to goal about 35 meters out, Belforti clobbered him from behind. The ref immediately yellow carded him. He'd sent the message. No more easy turns and running straight at our defense. Both he and Chara challenged the Ecija forwards higher up the pitch.

Ecija still created chances, but instances of them running at our defense with the ball at their feet were fewer in the second half. Not that I didn't feel nervous any time they had the ball in their half, but ...

Perico had not had a good night at the office. Their right back was pretty good, just as fast as Perico plus Kike Lopez was able to stroll past their left back with ease. So I replaced him with Kike Marquez to give Perico a rest and the other Kike some minutes.

Dalmau, Nafti, Kike Lopez and Airam had several really intricate moves down our right flank. It seemed that any other match and they would have resulted in goals.

On 68 minutes, Ecija's star striker Javi Lopez took a pass around 30 meters out, turned past Belforti and stormed toward Alejandro. Chara and Tomas sprinted over to cover. Alejandro advanced out of the net just above the 5 meter box. Lopez struck a worm burner aimed just inside the far post. Alejandro got a toe on it and it rolled just outside of the post. I exhaled. That was probably going to be the save of the game if we win or the first signs of the inevitable collapse if we lose.

Esteban was right. We were going to have a tough end to the game.

With 20 minutes left I told Bruninho to warm up. With 15 minutes left, I pulled off Airam. Souda has a better first touch, is a tad faster and I had to pull one of them off so that I could put Bruninho in front of the back four and give us a little protection as we tried to see this nailbiter out.

Bruninho and Nafti stopped Ecija. Our back four was safe. That lasted all of 5 minutes.

Ecija began lumping balls forward, hoping for a friendly bounce or deflection. This is exactly why I got Chara from Udinese. He cleared most of them. They did get some friendly bounces, though. They won several corners, but we defended the corners well.

Chara got booked driving an elbow through the back of Javi Lopez's skull. They ballooned the resulting free kick from 25 meters high and wide.

Just as the fourth official held up his board to indicate 4 extra minutes, the Ecija center back Sebastian Corona clattered into Souda late. The ref reached into his pocket and Corona fell to his knees pleading. He was pleading because he'd received a yellow card in the first half. I breathed a sigh of relief. We should easily see out the game now.

Of course, we didn't.

We kept giving gifts away like we'd been doing all game. Once Lopez even got the ball and started charging toward our goal. As I realized I was searching for a finger nail to chew on (I had none left), Bruninho dove in with a brilliantly timed tackle and saved the day.

With seconds left, Luque made a tired and rash tackle about 40 meters out. I reflexively did a face palm. I looked at the clock. 93:47. ****, **** and *********s. They had one last chance. I crossed my arms as the clock rolled past 94 minutes.

Everyone except for their keeper and the free kick taker was at the top right of our penalty box.

The Ecija player lofted a high ball toward the penalty area. But he hit it a little high. And a little far. He'd really thumped it. It drifted over everyone's heads and over the end line near the corner flag.

Alejandro took his time with the goal kick.

The ref got bored and took pity on me and blew three sweet blasts on his whistle.

Paco, Aleja and I had a group hug. We'd won that first home game. It hadn't been easy, but we'd done it. We'd won and we were in first place in the Secundo B4.

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Trust me when I say I gave the shortest postgame team talk ever and strolled without a care into the club parking section underneath the ground. I put the top down on the Alfa and roared out into the beautiful evening air of Cadiz. There's nothing like the sound of a well-tuned Alfa Romeo.

Nothing.

Now I can forget all about Cadiz CF S.A.D. and go to dinner with the lovely Ana Maria.
 
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If you made a list of everything you wanted out of life ...

I pulled up at the restaurant. I handed my keys to the valet and strode up the steps into the foyer. I glanced at the menu just outside the door. I almost gasped. This was an expensive restaurant. I mean I knew that it was, but I'm trying to pay down my mountain of debt. I had the money as I'd also been setting a bit aside each week. Back in the day, having dinner at a place like this was commonplace. But that was when I was making EU25,000 per week. Now I make 1500 per week. A full decimal place less. And then a little bit less than that.

I greeted the host and since I hadn't made a reservation went into the bar. The place was packed. I was a bit early. And there was Ana Maria sitting at the bar. She was wearing a short, very tight red dress with matching heels. Her cascade of hair hung down her back. My knees almost buckled.

"Do you come here often?" I said sitting down next to her. She smirked, turned and looked at me. Oh, those blue eyes bored a hole right through me and once again felt like I was going to melt.

"You think that line ever works?" she replied.

"Well, is it?" I squeaked. It came out sounding rather awkward. She smiled.

"We may not get a table for a while or at all," she said. "The wait is an hour."

"It's nice here, do you want to stay?"

"We could just eat at the bar," she replied. I nodded. I got the bartender's attention. Ana Maria already had a glass of wine. I looked through the wine list and got a glass of a local white wine and menus.

"Did you grow up here?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied studying the menu. "The whole extended family. Three brothers, one sister, Mom, Dad, Mom's sister and Grandpa, my Mom's Dad, all under the same roof. My mother's side is from here. My Dad volunteered to join the crazy."

"Heh, I'm American," I said. "We don't do extended families. Well, not entirely. I mean we keep in touch, but it's scattered all over the eastern seaboard and northern Italy."

"You're Spanish is quite good," she observed. "I'm sure there's a story with that."

"Soccer, as we Americans call it, and I studied it in school," I replied. "I played with a good number of Mexicans, Central Americans and South Americans growing up. What do you do for a living?"

"I'm in banking, finance," she replied.

"I've heard tales about the wild banker parties and after-parties," i dead-panned.

"You have no idea."

"Huh? That was a joke," I said.

"When I was in Madrid before the crash," she began. "The head of our division threw the wildest, most decadent parties you could imagine. I went to some. I didn't get invited to the ones with hookers. He's in prison now. He was so corrupt for so long that I can hardly believe it even now. The mere fact that he got away with it for so long and will be able to keep so much of his wealth after he's out in a couple of years ... it ... it ... let me say this; he and the people like him have profited greatly from the destruction of Spain."

"Yeah, um, wow," I stammered.

"And like so many, I'm back living with my parents," she concluded.

"The crash ruined me, too," I said. "I'd invested in a large housing development project north of Madrid. Well, technically, I'd borrowed a huge amount to be able to invest in it. I lost everything, eventually. I managed to string it along for a while."

"Oh, I know," she said. "I financed several of them. Debt purchased with credit that was itself financed. Upside down pyramid of calamitous potential. When did you retire from playing?"

"2009," I replied. "I blew my knee out. I was nearly a cripple anyway. I knew I couldn't continue."

"Let's go somewhere else," she said suddenly. "This place is just too expensive for either of us."

"Well, you make a quite valid point that I'm not going to argue."

"I don't make what I used to make in Madrid," she continued as I fished out some Euros to pay for our glasses of wine. "I don't know why I'm telling you this on the first date, but between me, my oldest brother, the eldest cousin of my sister and her Mom my aunt, we're supporting twenty people. Nobody has jobs that pay much of anything anymore."

"Yeah, well, I have a mountain of fail to pay back," I said as tried to do some basic math and did so slowly and poorly. "I'm open to suggestions."

"I know the perfect place," she replied. "The owners are long-time family friends and I've been friends with the chef since grade school. Oh, and it's nearby."

"You walk fairly normally for someone who was a cripple in 2009," she said as we strolled to our next destination.

"Yoga," I replied.

"Truthfully?" she said. "Interesting. Nearly all of my women friends are doing it."

"And you?" I said. "You, um, you look great. You must work out all the time."

"Karate," she said.

"****," I said in English. "Bad ***." And then returning to Spanish. "So if we get mugged, I'm just going to run for help? For the muggers?"

She smiled at my joke.

The restaurant we went to was much more reasonably priced. The food, as with pretty much all the food I've had in Spain, was fabulous. She laughed at my jokes. Her sense of humor isn't funny, ha ha, laugh out loud. She's rather twisted. She says things that aren't funny in a way that make me laugh while I'm taken aback at the same time. Like with that first joke she told me on the balcony above the party -- the "think of the kids" line. It was just so wrong, but darkly funny. At any rate, I was completely and utterly smitten. Lost. Head over heels. In way over my head. You pick the phrase to describe my plight, I'd agree with it.

I drove her home afterward. As with anywhere in Cadiz, it wasn't very far away. I wasn't sure what to do when I dropped her off. I just couldn't get a read on her. I mean, I knew she was interested; she'd called me back. She'd agreed to go on a date. She'd laughed at my jokes. I was just too intimidated, too scared to try anything even slightly risky as I didn't want to blow my chance.

After she'd shut the door to her apartment building behind her, I sat for a second in front of her building. While I was riding a buzz of euphoria from her presence, I also felt this peculiar ache of longing that I hadn't felt since I'd had my first dates with my now ex-wife.

I smiled the whole mile drive back to my apartment. After I parked my car, I strolled over to the nearest bar for a nightcap. It was going to take a bit of liquor to calm me down enough to go to sleep.
 
No hangover

The players were supposed to arrive at 11am so the coaching staff and I met over espressos in the cafeteria.

"How are you feeling this morning, Alejo?" I asked.

"Fine, why?"

"Paco and I were watching you turn purple all night long," I replied.

"Dalmau and Chara just won't step up," he said shaking his head in disbelief. "I talk about keeping the distance between the midfield tight. I talk about staying close to their forwards. Mother Mary full of grace how often do I have to repeat myself before they get it."

"This is Secundo B4 not La Liga," Javi Garcia said. "These guys don't read the game as well, don't think the game as well. We just have to keep trying."

"Great point," I said nodding in agreement. "Let's just keep at trying to get them to play how we want them to. On another note, Andres and Perico got injured last night. Obviously, losing Perico will be big, but Tomas is fit and he's the first choice left back anyway."

"I'm worried about the attack," Llorente said. "We just couldn't get that goal to ensure victory."

"Yeah," I said holding up my hands. "I chewed all my finger nails off. That wasn't fun last night."

"But we got the three points," Paco interjected. Everyone nodded.

"I'm concerned about wearing out Luque and Nafti," I said. "They're not young and they're the keystone to our success."

"Bruninho is fit and wants to play," JVP said. "We can certainly give Nafti a day off. And I've been working with Villar on playing central midfield playmaker. He'll be adequate."

"Let's bring in Jose Antonio," I said. "Can we rest Luque and Nafti? Are Cacereno going to be easy?"

"No they are not," replied my Chief Scout. "They are tough to break down. Away from home, they don't take any risks. They rely on counter attacks to generate their offense and are careful to never leave themselves vulnerable when they are in the attack."

"Their fullbacks are quick and solid defensively," he continued. "Perico or Kike Marques depending on Perico's fitness and the other Kike on the right won't be strolling past their fullbacks like against other teams."

"With that said, their offense relies on their lone striker Martins and their attacking midfielder Fernando Esparza. They play always builds through Esparza and most often it's Martins finishing. The only other player to score is their right midfielder, Aaron."

"I've scheduled yoga for tomorrow to hopefully build our energy back before Wednesday's battle," I said.

"They actually seem to like it," Paco said.

"Anything else?" I asked.

I walked into the Physio's room at eleven to see how everyone was. As usual I freaked out for a second seeing Luque in the room. Michel was massaging Luque's thighs. It was probably just Luque being careful. Andres had just had bandages for the wound on his leg changed. Perico was icing his right ankle Tomas was icing his left. Bruninho was doing some twisting stretches he'd learned in yoga to loosen his ribs. Nafti was stretching out his hamstrings.

"Ankles good or bad?" I asked Perico and Tomas. They both gave thumbs up. I'm glad it was just precautionary.

"Andres will be out two weeks maximum," Michel said while continuing to massage Luque. "No swelling or signs of any infection overnight. Perico and Tomas are just to be careful. Nafti's up next for massage."

Then I noticed someone was missing: Team Captain Mikel Martins. I asked about him and Michel said that he was working out on the exercise bike.

"How much longer until he can play?" I asked.

"I think a week, but he'll have to play with a cast for a week or two," Michel responded.

Several of the injured youth players were getting treated as well and Michel explained how they were doing. Honestly, I didn't pay much attention to the youth squad. Only one player had any promise, Moises, and Matias Cerci (Head of Youth Development) and Isadoro Ascaso (U19's manager) kept me abreast of how he was doing.
 
Worrying signs

Something was off on Thursday's practice. Maybe the players had too much swagger from being top of the table. Maybe they weren't quite working as hard as I wanted them to. The passes seemed to lack crispness in the 4v2 warm-ups and in the 5v5 games we played. Maybe it was that the forwards and midfielders goofed off just a tiny bit more than usual as Llorente and JVP worked with them. Maybe it was that the same lack of attentiveness they gave Javi Garcia and I joined to work in tactics.

Alejo spent nearly the whole practice screaming himself hoarse and purple. The screaming was new. Maybe they'd get tired of him screaming and start playing defense the way he wants. We'll see how it goes.

Yet, I couldn't put my finger on what was bugging me.

On the way out to the Alfa, I drafted and sent a text to Ana Maria. I thanked her for the lovely evening and asked if we could do it again. I thumbed the 'Send' button as I sat down. I put the key in and turned it to start her up. The Alfa coughed twice and did nothing. Oh, ****. I waited a few seconds. I turned the key again. It coughed three times, but nothing. "*** **** *****-****ing piece of ****," I muttered to myself. I took a few deep breathes. I don't know why I always did this with The Alfa. Maybe it was an attempt to calm myself so that I wouldn't get angry over it breaking down yet again. I tried for a third and it sputtered to life. Thank God. I took a few more deep breathes to calm myself. It was just a false alarm, nothing to worry about.

As I put it in gear, my phone pinged to indicate I had a text. It was a one word response from Ana Maria: "yes."

I slept like **** that night when I eventually got to sleep. It was a combination of my imagination wandering through all kinds of worst case scenarios with the team and my imagination getting carried away with thoughts about Ana Maria.

So I arrived to the training ground a bit grumpy.

My morning started out all right. I had an email from my scout Gerhard Poschner. I'd hired him, as you can guess by his name, for his knowledge of all things Germanic. He even had some connections in the former eastern bloc countries. Unfortunately, that didn't matter at all because of Cadiz's tight budget. He was only allowed to scout Spain.

Regardless, Gerhard had an email about several players he'd just scouted and one was an out-of-contract fullback, Diego Souane. Souane had washed out of Deportiva La Coruna's system, had failed to get picked up with anyone and was playing with an amateur team in Coruna to stay in shape in hopes that someone, somewhere ... like me ... might need a decent fullback.

I called Gerhard and he assured me that Souane would be an upgrade from Dalmau and Andres. He thought he'd be better than Tomas but only because he was more experienced.

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I walked into Alessandro Gaucci's office.

"Good morning, Enrico," said the Director of Football for Cadiz. "What's going on?"

"Do we have any money to sign a free transfer?" I asked. "I mean I know we're broke from the stadium loan, but Poschner found a fullback. I'm tired of panicking every time Dalmau and Chara panic because an opponent is running toward them with the ball."

"I share your panic every time that happens," he replied. "And, yes, I believe we might just be able to squeeze a few pesos out of Manzano."

"Okay, let me forward you Poschner's email," I said. "There. Can you call up his agent right away?"

"Of course," Alessandro replied.

While the possibility of a new signing was a nice thought to play around with, training didn't go well. Those worrying signs I noticed blossomed today into trends. About a half our into our training, I'd had enough.

"ALL RIGHT! ALL RIGHT!! ENOUG OF THIS ****!" I hollered. "EVERYBODY BRING IT IN! BRING IT IN!"

The players stopped in the middle of whatever it was they were doing and began walking over to the central location where I was standing.

"MOVE IT! MOVE IT OVER HERE!" I yelled.

Once they'd gathered around me looking confused, I layed into them.

"YOUR PASSING IS GETTING SLOPPY, YOUR NOT CONCENTRATING ON YOUR BALL CONTROL, YOU'RE ONLY PUTTING IN FIFTY PERCENT EFFORT! YOU TRAIN THE WAY YOU PLAY. THE WAY WE'RE DOING TODAY, WE'RE GOING TO LOSE TOMORROW."

"Now that I have your attention," I said resuming my normal volume when addressing the entire team outside. "Line up on the end line. We're going to do a few Killers to get your attention."

A few players groaned, but they all jogged over to the end line. I only made them do four, but I think I'd gotten my message through. Hopefully, I'd broken this trend.

Paco made eye contact as everyone resumed the training that they'd been doing prior to my intervention. He winked and nodded.
 
"I screamed that my players for the first time," I said as I settled into the barber's chair for my customary Friday shave. This time after training instead of before.

"Really?" Esteban replied as he swathed me in towels and the cover. "Just today!?! You mean you haven't up until now?"

I nodded.

"That's unusual," he replied lathering my skull up. "I figured all managers screamed at their players all the time."

"Some do," I replied. "But at some point players just tune the screaming out. I think that as a manager I'm going to speak to them like adults and save the hair-dryer treatment so it will have a dramatic effect."

"That sounds smart," he said. "Why'd you do it?"

"Their training was getting sloppy," I replied. "It's both technique and thinking. We're top of the table. I think they're getting overconfident and lazy. Or I should say I'm worried about them become that."

"That makes sense," he replied.

We were silent for a while. The only sound was the flamenco guitar playing on the sound system and the snick, snick wipe sound of Esteban shaving my melon.

"Then it sounds like Sunday is going to be bad," he stated.

"Yeah, that's my fear."

My phone pinged.

"You need to get that?" Esteban asked. I nodded.

"It's either my Director of Football or Ana Maria," I replied. It was Alessandro. Diego Souane had agreed to terms. EU2,100 per week until June 2015. I told Esteban about the player.

"Yes, Dalmau your right back. He doesn't make me feel confident he'd be able to stop even a young girl dribbling at him," Esteban stated.

"But tell me all about your date," he demanded.

I did. He interjected with 'mmm hmms', 'well played' and a few 'you are a true Don Juans' but was aghast I would move so slowly.

"You must leap at the opportunities, not not not let them pass you by," he spluttered. "Bah! Who knew that an Italian could be such a frightened mouse of a lover. This is probably your American side. You must expunge that from yourself."

"Esteban, seriously, I don't want to screw it up," I said. "Seriously, she's perfect."

"But the opportunity is lost, you fool!" he ranted. "You didn't even kiss her."

"All is not lost my friend," I said. "Here look at this." I showed him the text exchange.

"God does smile on fools," he retorted. "When have you arranged to go out again?"

"I haven't, yet."

"GAHHHH!" Esteban yelled in exasperation.

He was silent while he lathered up my face.

"I want to say one more thing about your team," he began. "It's better to get their confidence, I suppose. If it goes badly Sunday, maybe they'll believe you when you say something. As opposed to 'he just yells because a geriatric mean old **** who needs to get laid' if you follow what I'm saying."

"Yeah, work ethic is everything," I replied. "I don't have La Liga skills in my squad, but they need to believe me when I say they need to work hard and concentrate."

"And a great big, steaming pile of **** laid early in the season against a weak time like Cacereno might convince them to listen to you," Esteban concluded.

I left hoping he was wrong, but knowing he was correct and that Sunday's match was going to suck.
 
Round 6: Cadiz CF v. CP Cacereno

Apparently, Sunday evening at 8:30pm is too late for Cadiz residents. Maybe they needed their beauty sleep before going to work Monday morning. The Ramon de Carranza looked a quarter full. Not many Cacerenos fans had made the nearly 400km trip down. Caceres is west-southwest of Madrid near the Portugal border. All 200 or so of the lime green clad fans were looking rather lonely in their corner of the stadium.

Fearing the worst, I played my strongest line-up. Tomas' fitness wasn't yet up to playing a full match, yet, but I had little choice. I had wanted to play Villar instead of Luque, but didn't. With Perico out, Kike Marques started his first match.

GK: Alejandro
D: Dalmau, Chara, Belfonti, Tomas
M: Kike Lopez, Nafti, Luque, Kike Marques
F: Airam, Souda

Subs: Ceballos (RB), Moises (RB/LB), Josete (D/M), Bruninho (M), Villar (M/F)

I don't think my date with Ana Maria had blissed me out so much that my pre-match team talk was any different. I told them to concentrate, relax and play their game. I'd said this for every match so far. Maybe they were tuning me out. I don't know.

The match started out brightly. Kike Lopez got the ball just inside the Cacerenos' half. He played the ball inside for Mehdi Nafti and took of sprinting down the line. Nafti picked out Airam who come back to show for a pass. Airam flicked Nafti's pass into the path of Lopez. Kike cut around the fullback who was scampering back in an attempt to cover him then went around the slow-footed center back who badly missed a desperation tackle. Kike's near post shot grazed the post and fluffed the side netting.

Half the fans thought it'd gone in.

And, sadly, that was about it for the first half until extra time. Cacereno's played solid defense and simply didn't venture forward. I don't think their forward touched the ball but twice and that was in their half.

In the 27th minute, Aymen Souda got his feet chopped out from under him. He flipped and flopped a few times before finally tumbling to a stop clutching his ankle. Once again I feared the worst. Michel ran out and sprayed his ankle and applied the magic sponge. Souda hobbled to the sideline and tried to walk it off while Luque lined up the free kick. I pointed at Villar who got up and started warming up.

Sadly, the free kick sailed well high and Michel shook his head and signaled for the switch.

Villar didn't do much, but didn't embarrass himself.

The only other real action of the first half was the two corners we won in extra time.

At halftime I told the players that I wasn't happy with their first half performance. I told them they were playing like they practiced this week; sloppy and lazy.

"They didn't even take a shot first half," I exclaimed. "Except for that great attack down our right in the first minute, we only took long shots. Let's work for this. I have faith that your defending will remain solid and you will find a way to break them down."

Unfortunately, Cacerenos were hard to break down, we weren't particularly inventive and we didn't work all that hard.

It got worse in the 49th minute when Nafti pulled up holding his right hip. It might have been an earlier challenge. As always, he was working hard. Cadiz's lacklustre wasn't his fault. He always gave his all. Rather than risk anything, I replaced him with Bruninho.

Just after the clock passed the 60 minute mark, Bruninho fed a ball forward to Airam who turned, took a touch and let loose a howitzer from 25m. It grazed the top of the crossbar.

Instead of dribbling at their defense or working the ball out wide for crosses, we just continued the fruitless pattern of blasting away from long range.

I replace Tomas in the 65th minute. He was gassed. Moises got his professional debut. He promptly hoofed a ball towards Airam who knocked it down to Villar, but Villar was quickly surrounded by defenders and gave it up to them.

In the 80th minute, Cacerenos took their first and only shot. A tame effort from 20m that didn't trouble Alejandro.

In the 86th minute, we finally came to life. Luque picked up the ball after a Bruninho tackle and trotted forward. I could tell he was tired, but he was going to try and create something. He played a pass to Airam who tapped it to Villar who laid it into the path of the charging Luque. Alas, Luque's tired legs and tired mind failed him and he ballooned his shot over from 20m.

In the 90th minute, The rapidly fading Luque won a tackle and nicked the ball to Bruninho. Bruninho had time to look around. Villar and Airam were standing still and well-marked. Kike Lopez was out way wide. The easy ball was to Dalmau. Instead Bruninho lofted a ball in the direction of Kike Lopez. Kike decided to charge up and head the ball in towards Airam. Airam beat their slow-footed center back to the ball but didn't make good contact with his shot. He had shot far post so it became a shotcross skimming between the 5m line and the goalkeeper.

Kike Marques had drifted inside into a more dangerous position when Bruninho played the ball wide right. Perico would have been onto Airam's shotcross in a flash and we'd have snatched all three points. Kike Marques would have had a chance to beat the defender to the ball. Instead he stood there watching the ball roll and watched the defender clear the ball for a throw in.

I face palmed. Paco face palmed. If we were on Star Trek, this is what we would have looked like:

View attachment 444585

One again, Esteban was right. I would need to play this pathetic 0-0 draw to my advantage. I mean, seriously pathetic. Check out the stats: 16 shots taken, mostly long range. Only 5 on target. Cacerenos: 1 shot. Alejandro didn't need his kit washed.

View attachment 444584

Albacetes won and displaced us into 2nd place.
View attachment 444583

I pointed all of this out to the team.

"You played the way you trained," I said. "We were sloppy and lazy. I'm not happy with what I just saw this week. We got a bit lucky against Ecija and were fortunate Cacerenos weren't interested in going forward."

"If we work harder in training we'll play better," I continued. "I'm going to schedule a mid-week friendly. We need to regain our concentration and get used to working the ball into the box from the wings again. That will open up the middle."

"I'll see you tomorrow at 10 sharp," I concluded and walked out of the changing room. I could see that they shared my embarrassment at the result and looked motivated to work harder next week.
 
Absolutely excellent writing - it's got me hooked. Really looking forward to reading more updates, very nice story.
 
"**** *** *******-*****, Esteban," I said as I slumped into his barber chair. I'd just received the email as I was walking up to Esteban's barbershop. "The big boss nixed the free transfer fullback. We all get to continue to suffer Dalmau's panicked defending."

View attachment 444081

"This kind of stress will cause premature baldness," he replied as he wrapped me up.

"It's like Cadiz CF are a metaphor for Spain or something," I moaned.

"On the verge of insolvency and no end to the austerity measures in sight," he added. "I'm not sure how much further we can take this metaphor of your's ..."

"Yeah, I know," I said. "The squad is just really thin."

"And how is Ana Maria?" Esteban asked.

"Good," I replied. "Dinner, a stroll along the water and drinks on Saturday night." I sighed.

Esteban shook his head and began shaving.
 
And September becomes October

"How's work?" Ana Maria asked as sat down in the Alfa Romeo.

"I'm not exactly sure," I replied. "I mean we're at the top of the table, but I think we're in a bit of a rut. I going to try to break out of it with the friendly tomorrow night."

"Where to tonight?" I asked.

"Have you been to Jerez?" she asked. I shook my head indicating I hadn't. "Well, it's a pretty place. Much of the old part of the city is painted all white. Everything. It's quite spectacular."

"Top down?" I asked as we began to crawl through Cadiz.

"Yes, it would be nice," she replied. And away we crawled the breeze fluttering through her hair. Well, at least until the road started to open up. Then she put on a head scarf.

Jerez de la Frontera is one of many towns in Andalusia (the southernmost province of Spain) that is formally named of the frontier. This is because it was one of the early towns the Reconquistas took back from the Moors and held. The Alcazar, Moorish fortress, is still intact as is much of the Moorish architecture. Jerez is known for their horses, flamenco and sherry.

"There's a beautiful lane in the old part where they trained the trees as they grew so that they cover over the street," she explained with both words and gestures. Of course, she took me there. It's so photogenic that even I can take a decent picture of it.

View attachment 443699

The Alcazar and the gardens surrounding it are marvelous.

View attachment 443697

I've got no eye for photography, but sometimes, like these pics, I can't help myself and take a decent picture.

Jerez has actually grown larger than Cadiz both size-wise (Cadiz can't grow larger) and economically. For southern Spain in the 21st century, the economy doesn't completely suck which is saying something. At least that's what I gathered from Ana Maria.

We watched the sun go up the cathedral as it set and then had a lovely dinner with a flamenco guitarist playing his heart out in a corner of the restaurant. We talked about her growing up in Cadiz. She had lots of questions about growing up in Washington, DC. She had had a serious boyfriend when she was living in Madrid, but they had a falling out when the economy collapsed. The economic stress of both of them losing their jobs doomed their relationship. I related how my wife wasn't interested in me once I couldn't afford to keep her in cocaine and the latest fashions from Milan.

After dinner we strolled through Jerez vaguely heading toward where I'd parked the Alfa.

"I'm glad I lost everything except that ********** car," I blurted out. I don't know why I did. I mean, it wasn't strategic. It wasn't apropos to the conversation we'd been having before it had subsided into a lull. It was kind of like a tremendous gas bubble in my stomach. Eventually it just pops up and out of you in a head-turning belch. It was also like the urge to grab her hand, raise it up and shout "I LOVE THIS WOMAN!" Ana Maria stopped and turned to look at me. She raised an eyebrow. She tilted her head sideways a bit as if to encourage me to go on. I blushed. Thankfully, it was rather dark.

"I'm ah um really um what I meant um was um that uh I wouldn't have met you otherwise," I stammer-mumbled. There. I'd said it. Whatever it was. I looked at my shoes.

"That wasn't in Spanish," she said stepping close. "I don't understand the words, but I think I understand what you meant."

We got a hotel in Jerez that night.
 
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Thursday morning and then the evening friendly against CD Alcala

I roared into the training ground the next morning. I'd got her back in time for work and to get me to the training ground. I walked up to the coaches as they sat in the cafeteria drinking their espressos. I wasn't late or anything, just the last to arrive that morning. I sat down.

Silence.

"Were you all talking about me or something?" I asked.

They looked at each other cluelessly. Or at least pretended to.

"It's just that your always here first," Alejo said.

"And your not moaning or swearing about something," added Javi Garcia. "Are you feeling alright?"

Suddenly Paco busted out laughing. Everyone looked at him. Between snorts and wheezes he managed to explain that I'd had a date last night.

I blushed.

"So it went well?" JVP asked.

"**** off you ******* *****s," I replied laughing. I toasted them, drained my espresso, told them to **** off again and said I'd see them on the training ground.

The players could have shown up in tutus or all with new tattoos and piercings and I couldn't have given the least ****. Thankfully, I've got a good staff who put them through their paces.

We didn't train all that hard as we had a friendly that night. As I told the players on Sunday, I arranged the friendly so they could get their scoring touch back against a lesser side.

We beat CD Alcala 4-2. Their goals came after I'd subbed in the second string. Souda and Airam (twice) both scored as well as Josete. I'm not sure that we looked as smooth nor as confident as I'd hoped. Our back-up keeper, Angel Bernabe, didn't do himself many favors with his performance. I said several prayer during that match asking God to see fit to keep Alejandro healthy this season.
 
Round 7: Cadiz CF v. La Hoya Lorca CF

I had barely sat down and we were down 0-1. Sheesh.

I'd sent out a defense of Dalmau, Chara, Martins (C) and gave Moises his first full start. They attacked down the kid, Moises, side. Their forward Pablo Pallares brought the ball at Moises and as Martins was about to shut him down, kicked it out to their right winger Alvaro Rosa. Rosa saw the late run from Jose Pineira and chipped the ball into his path. Pineira unleashed a thunderous volley that Alejandro flung himself in front of. The problem was it fell to Pallares who roofed a shot past the sprawled Alejandro.

And I was hoping Martins and Moises might be my answer to shoring up the left side of the defense. Oh well.

The midfield of Kike Lopez, Bruninho, Luque and Tomas had done nothing, yet, except let La Hoya stroll past them. I had played Tomas as the left-sided midfielder as he played pretty well there in the mid-week friendly. As a player who can play both fullback and winger, I'd have thought he'd be more defensively responsible. Oh well.

My forwards Airam and Souda watched all of this from the middle of the park.

While I can fault my team, it was a well-crafted attack. La Hoya looked like a much tougher side than my Chief Scout had predicted.

We really did nothing significant in the first half. A couple of long-range shots. Luque and Chara got booked.

I was disturbed.

"I'm not happy with what I saw out there," I told them at halftime. "You were listless, unorganized and it looked like you'd never played together before. What's going on? I have faith that we can defend better than we did. I have faith that we can control dictate the tempo and control the midfield. I believe that if we do those first two things and get the ball to Airam and Souda, they'll score for us. Well?"

They looked pretty motivated. They also began to play better. It took a bit. Tomas just didn't have the endurance, yet. I replaced him at 55 minutes with Kike Marques who'd been horrible last week and did nothing against the amateur side in the mid-week friendly. Kike Lopez looked like a shadow of his former self so I replaced him with 30 minutes left with Villar. Bruninho was gassed, too, so I replaced him with Josete.

The chances started to come, but a combination of La Hoya parking the bus and no luck when we needed it kept it scoreless.

We had two scrums in the goalmouth from corners; but no goal. Airam smashed a close range volley whiskers wide of the post. Souda was hopelessly wayward with his three chances. La Hoya defenders charged down Luque anytime he got the ball anywhere near the penalty area.

We were going to need some luck and it finally came in the 82nd minute. Dalmau, of all people, had the ball in the upper right of the penalty area. Where you'd expect our right back to have it. He was trying to slip the ball to Villar and was dribbling the ball away from goal. But the defender decided he could win the ball off him.

You know how this goes. The defender only got Dalmau's standing leg, the ball continued trickling toward the corner flag. The ref blew his whistle and pointed to the spot. We. Were. Saved. Providing, of course, we converted the penalty.

Airam stood over the ball adjusting it for an eternity. He took five really, really, really, really slow steps back. He waited for another eternity for the ref to blow his whistle so he could proceed. Finally, the ref obliged and Airam slotted it past the La Hoya keeper who'd guessed correctly but couldn't stop the shot.

1-1

I urged the players to keep the momentum up, but they didn't have the legs. A lucky draw. I told them we'd been unlucky. We had. The coaches and I were going to need a rethink and the players were going to need some rest.

View attachment 443319 View attachment 443318
 
Brilliant been reading this all day has made me look at the game in more detail. By doing so my glasgow rangers team is flurishing. Thanks and keep it coming :-)

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