The Alfa Romeo Metaphor

League One: AFC Wimbledon v. Portsmouth FC

View attachment 344618Unlike the last couple of weeks, Kingsmeadow is packed for Pompey. All the superstars of the recent past are all long gone. They bring a solid squad of journeymen with a trio of regular youngish players amongst their starting XI. They have 7 wins and 3 losses in their last ten. Apparently, there's no middle ground with them.

I go with my first choice pairing at fullback with Cameron Dummigan and Jim Fenlon. Lovers gets the start up top with Jason Banton and George Francomb on the wings. Matteo Nole isn't available due to an injury he picked up yesterday.

I give them the ol' 'relax and play our game' talk.

Maybe they're a little too relaxed. Nothing happens for the first 15 minutes. We play tiki taka in and around the center circle but go nowhere. They are unable to keep possession in our half.

Bill Knott, whom we got to know last season when he was at Rotherham, finally dribbles a shot right at Lincoln. It wasn't quite a first shot in anger as the announcers are fond of saying on this island, but at least it was something.

Then we race forward with the ball. Leandro Depetris plays a ball up to James Loveridge who controls the ball with his back to goal and considers his options. He plays in George Francomb who takes advantage of the ball-watching right fullback. George beats the keeper but central defender Craig Morgan clears the ball off the line.

The clearance hits George in the stomach and drops at his feet. Then Danny Potts slides in for the tackle takes out George's planting foot.

The crowd roars as it's clearly a penalty. Except the ref charges over and stands over George. George looks up at the ref incredulously. The roars turn to whistles and boos. I can read George's lips as he says "you've got to be kidding me." The ref cards him as he gets up.

I'm speechless. I'm just standing their gawping (another UK word I've learned to love), mouth open with a look of disbelief on my face.

"How on God's green earth is that not a penalty?" I moan to the fourth official. "Seriously. He clearly took out his standing leg. Please ask Mr. Ilderton how he can explain away an illegal tackle as not a foul and explain how my player fell down all on his own."

The fourth official held up his hand as he was obviously conferring with Ilderton via their headsets.

"The refs are on to Francomb, Enrico," Portsmouth boss Guy Whittingham said. "Word is out that he's a diver."

"Your clumsy lummox of a defender took out his standing leg, that's why he fell," I retorted.

"The card was for embellishment," the fourth official said.

"But was he fouled?" I asked. But the fourth official aggressively ignored me. "Seriously. Don't insult your own intelligence and and and what credibility the FA and whatever credibility the referees on this island may have had. I want an answer from him. Was George fouled."

There I stood. Chin out, arms waving and gums flapping. His previous career must have been as a palace guard at Buckingham Palace for all the reaction I could get out of him.

I stomped away disgusted as the boos and whistles rained down from the stands.

And that was about all that happened in a shockingly dull first half. Lovers passed to George rather than shooting and George shot high. Lovers shot horribly wide after a melee in the box following a corner. And Andrea Sbraga missed the net on a free header from another corner.

I tried to talk to the ref after the half time whistle but they were all pretending to be palace guards and aggressively ignored me.

"Guys, listen up," I said once everyone was in the locker room. "We're stifling them. That's great. We're moving the ball decently. Great effort out there on that right flank, George. The penalty that wasn't and cleared off the line. That's football. Just keep plugging away and the goals will flow."

We raced up the right flank from the restart. But George hit a horrible cross that they cleared easily. We controlled the clearance and attacked right up the gut. Lovers played in George but George shanked his shot horribly wide.

I realized that both palms were covering my face. I have no winger to replace George. Nole is hurt and I wanted Dylan Griffith to gets some playing time so he's off with the U19s today. **** me.

In the 51st minute, George squandered another chance. George is scoring in cup play but can't buy a goal in league play. **** me.

In the 59th minute, Sbraga tunes out for the absolute wrong second. He tuned out at the exact second that the aged and slow Bobby Zamora decided to make a run. Their captain Romain Padovani recognized this and sent a pass into the space for Zamora to amble toward. I covered my face with both hands and peered out from between my fingers.

But Sbraga recovered with a brilliantly timed desperation tackle that nudged the ball away just as Bobby was about to clobber it goalward.
View attachment 344617
The whole stadium and I sighed in relief. Then the stadium applauded Sbraga's tackle.

I need to jumpstart this match. I look at my bench. Nope, nobody there to do add any life. Michael Smith still doesn't seem all that confident in front of goal. Dummigan is tiring so on goes Brad Smith at the hour mark. Same for Matteo Ricci so I put on Mark Byrne.

The two Marks, Byrne and Tomlinson, work their butts off and are very solid defensively, but neither do much going forward. Combine that with Banton is anonymous and George can't score and we're down to Lovers and Leandro. Neither are having their best games today.

So in the 70th minute, I replace George with Michael Smith and send Lovers to the right wing. With someone who can score in the league out on the right, we don't create any more chances out there.

The game eventually ends but this was a horrible bore draw. We didn't have it in us and Pompey never looked threatening. I told the boys that this we should be beating Portsmouth and this seemed to motivate them.

I guess I have to put it in perspective. That's four straight games without conceding and five if you count the Johnston's Paint Trophy match. Only one loss in our last ten. 1 point away from a play-off spot. That ain't half bad. Plus, MK Dons lost again and remain second bottom.

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phew. Finally caught up on all 97 pages. Cracking story !! Keep it up!
 
This is the most in depth I think anyone has gone into writing a story and this is probably the best story anyone has ever made! You should start a blog and post this on there as I feel this could get a lot of followers.
 
bluebirdboi said:
This is the most in depth I think anyone has gone into writing a story and this is probably the best story anyone has ever made! You should start a blog and post this on there as I feel this could get a lot of followers.
Click to expand...

Oh, stop. Now I'm blushing.

As to a blog. I used to be a political blogger so I know how to build a blog and all that. The issue is I don't wanna. I'm just here to spin a yarn and keep writing. Ya know ... practice the craft of writing and have a good time. At some point, I'm going to start developing some of the stories (some more developed than others) that I have kicking around in my head and some written down.

On the other hand, I'm going to need to build a website for my writing endeavors. Maybe I incorporate this in somehow.

Thanks for the idea...
 
Sunday, 11 October 2015 9am

"Gentleman," I said as I sat down at the new conference room table at New Malden. "l hope everyone had a good evening last night. Matt, you have your first quarter report?"

View attachment 344076"I do," Coach Matt Woolley said. He connected his laptop to a cable. "Alex, would you turn on the TV? Yeah, the green button. Thanks."

"As you all know, we're 12 games or roughly one quarter of the way into the campaign," Wools said as the league table displayed. "We're sitting 9th, stingiest defense in League One which is obviously why we're 9th as we're not scoring much. Most of the other teams around and above us have scored 20 or more. Obviously, Michael and Lovers are not adapting to the new league as quickly as we'd hope."

"At home, we're undefeated," he continued. "3 wins, 3 draws. Away we have 2 wins and a draw from six matches. I'd like to point you all toward four interesting statistics. One, Andrea Sbraga has 3 Man-of-the-Match awards. Two, Chris Dunn has only conceded 2 goals. Three, Daniel Lincoln has 4 shutouts and Mark Tomlinson is not among the leaders in yellow cards."

There were murmurs of approval from around the table.

View attachment 344072"I'm worried about our offense," Shooting coach Andy Garner said. "We're getting into good positions but just not converting."

"And it's not just Lovers and Michael," I added. "George Francomb can't seem to score. That in particular is driving me ****ing mad. He's getting 3 or 4 chances per match."

"Do we give Dylan Griffiths a chance to start?" Wools asked. "He's shown plenty of promise in training."

"Well, the Oxford match would be the perfect opportunity," I said. "They're in the relegation zone and are leaking goals like a broken pipe. And neither Michael or Lovers are scoring away."

"Boss, would you like a list of available strikers?" Lil Fuccillo asked.

"Yeah," I said. "If they're not scoring by January, I'll need another striker."
 
Oh, the drama of the Johnstone's Paint Trophy Quarter Final draw. There actually was a smidge of drama. There was the possibility that we'd be drawn with MK Dons. Didn't happen, though.

View attachment 343988
 
Tuesday, 13 October 2015

My Chief Scout Lil Fuccillo supplied me with a list on Sunday. So I've spent all my spare time watching videos. An American, Ben Rolfe, grabbed my attention. Fast and looks really good in front of net.

View attachment 343983

I could sign him for January on a free transfer. So I called his agent.

His agent came at me with an attitude right from the start. Of course, it was never going to go well. No wonder a player of this skill is about to get released on a free. What a douchenozzle. When I asked what the ball park salary Ben was looking for, he countered by saying it would take a pretty large salary to even get him to consider.

"And what range would that be?" I asked.

"How much are you willing to offer?" Agent Douche Nozzle replied.

"I like to structure my contracts to be performance based," I said. "And I'd also like to give players a salary bump after 10 or 15 matches. So I can offer a salary of 2,000 initially with 2,700 after ..."

"Let me just stop you right there," Agent Nozzle interrupted. "You're not even in the ballpark. I don't have time for amateurs. Have a nice day."

Click.
 
Enrico Pucci said:
Oh, stop. Now I'm blushing.

As to a blog. I used to be a political blogger so I know how to build a blog and all that. The issue is I don't wanna. I'm just here to spin a yarn and keep writing. Ya know ... practice the craft of writing and have a good time. At some point, I'm going to start developing some of the stories (some more developed than others) that I have kicking around in my head and some written down.

On the other hand, I'm going to need to build a website for my writing endeavors. Maybe I incorporate this in somehow.

Thanks for the idea...
Click to expand...

Being honest I believe you are able to write really interesting football romances like this one but even more better more developed ;) And I believe these (yours) works are able to become succesful ;)
 
dainis said:
Being honest I believe you are able to write really interesting football romances like this one but even more better more developed ;) And I believe these (yours) works are able to become succesful ;)
Click to expand...

Thanks!
 
After Senor Douche Nozzle's player, there weren't many that would be an improvement. There was a promising 18 year old Welsh kid. He'd scored 11 goals in 25 appearances when his Welsh club, Afan Lido loaned him to Shrewsbury. The videos suggested he wasn't the finished product but certainly had potential. Like Premier League potential. And I could have him on my roster in January for a song. So I called up his agent.

"This is Kevin," he said.

"Hi, this is Enrico Pucci, manager of AFC Wimbledon," I said. "I'm calling about a Welsh boy your represent, Craig Williams."

"Okay," he said.

"I'm interested if Craig would like to move to London and play in League One?" I asked.

"Wimbledon, huh," Kevin said. "Yeah, he probably would."

"I see that he's making a youth wage, you'd be okay with a typical League One salary for a promising young player?" I asked.

"If by that you mean 1,000 a week, yes," he replied.

"Alright then," I said. "I'll be in touch once I've got an agreement with his club."

"Cheers."

Click.
 
Hi guys, can ask a massive favour for you to check out my new FM story- Satisfying Stan. It is an Arsenal story which will have certain twists and incentive based on performance including the amount of transfer budget available, key players being sold and limited appearances for certain players. Please check it out, cheers
 
League One: AFC Wimbledon v. Leyton Orient FC

View attachment 343266Unlike a week and a half ago, it wasn't near winter-like conditions. It was coolish, partly-sunny and a perfect afternoon for football. Kingsmeadow looked full except for the bad seats in the corners and the odd empty.

We just beat these guys and we know what to expect from them. I'm giving Mark Tomlinson the afternoon off. At least hopefully. I think Mark Byrne's combative nature and work ethic will be enough to keep the Os in check. I can't imagine that they've gotten better since the previous meetings.

We start off attacking them right from the start. After playing keep-away for the first minute in and around the center circle, Matteo Ricci fed Michael Smith. Smith held the ball up nicely then played a ball behind the left back Mat Sadler for Jason Banton to run onto. Their keeper blocked it out for a corner.

Leandro saw that Leyton's captain, the 5'8" Steven Irwin, was marking 6'5" Michael. So he aimed his corner kick at them. Irwin threw Michael down like in WWE wrestling and kicked the ball clear.

No foul.

I was still busy moaning at the ref and fourth official in the fourth minute when Ricci got the ball up to Michael who played Jason in.

1-0

Jason just stood there as his teammates mobbed him and the Womble faithfully went ape****. It was looking like a rough afternoon for Mr. Hoyland and Co.

Jason nearly got a second in the 14th minute when Nathan Houghton cleared the ball into his fellow central defender Nathan Clarke. But his shot trickled just wide.

Fifteen minutes into the match it was clear that the ref wasn't going to protect players from over-the-top challenges and other ultra-violence. I'd spent nearly eight of the first fifteen minutes exhorting the ref and fourth official to begin enforcing the rules of the game pertaining to violent conduct.

Apparently, today was going to be the Jason and Michael Show. In the 20th minute, we cleared a corner and Jason got their first. He then ran 60 yards up the left flank and fed a pass into the space between the central defenders. Michael got to the cross first and smashed a shot goalwards that grazed the crossbar.

In the 29th minute, the match descended into farce. Ricci dispossessed O's midfielder Liam Noble. Noble pushed him down. I was about to restart my Moan-A-Thon but I saw the ref reaching into his back pocket. Yellow for Noble.

In the 33rd minute, Jason put the ball past their left back Sadler who cynically chopped him down. Not even a foul. The ball rolled out of bounds. Whitney raced out onto the pitch to apply some magic sponge and freezy spray. Jason indicated that he was fine.

Right after the restart from Jason's injury, Clarke lashed out at Ricci with an elbow. It just missed his chin by an inch. So Ricci chopped out Clarke's ankles. Yellow for Ricci.

In the 38th, Leandro beat central midfielder James Weir. Weir reached out and nearly pantsed Leandro. Leandro hoisted his shorts back up and jogged after the ball. Yellow for Weir.

In the 42nd minute, Ricci and O's forward Kenneth McEvoy both leapt for a corner. Ricci's elbow caught McEvoy. No foul. This time Manager Hoyland was bellyaching at the ref and fourth official. I'm a bit partial, but it may not have been unintentional the way the Os had been trying to kick the **** out of Ricci and Leandro. We put the ball out so McEvoy could receive some treatment.

Then 2 minutes into stoppage time, Noble lost his mind. The red mist descended. Pick any metaphor you want, but left his teammates in an impossible position. They'd lumped the ball into our right corner. Cameron Dummigan had retrieved it and played it square to Andrea Sbraga. I looked at the ref. He looked at his watch. McEvoy rushed Sbraga so he dished it to his partner Manny Smith. Manny dallied on the ball. I looked at the ref again, he was putting his whistle to his lips. I was kind of worried as Noble charged up, but Manny turned to shield the ball. Noble slid right through Manny's legs and got up pointing at the ball which rolled to McEvoy's feet. Manny lay on the ground clutching his planting leg.
View attachment 343265
The ref blew his whistle all right, but for the foul. Then he reached into his left back pocket and produced a yellow card as he reached into his right pocket for his red card.

Then he blew for half time. Ah, Noble ... what a maroon. What a box of rocks. To call Noble stupid would be an insult to stupid people everywhere. But thanks for guaranteeing our win, though, dude. Much appreciated.

We exploited our extra man. Michael bagged two well-taken goals from crosses. Jason and Matteo Nole were the providers. They scored a consolation from a long ball over the top. Then we scored our fourth.

Have you every played hall ball? Normally, it's played in dormitories. Anyways, there's always a point in hall ball when it's two against two with all four participants flailing away in an attempt to get the ball past their opposition. Then with less than 10 minutes left, Manny scored a bizarro, hall ball goal. Leandro took a corner that landed a foot from the near post. It was Andrea Sbraga and Manny Smith in a game of hall ball with two O's defenders. They bumped and jostled for only a second or three, but all four participants got several leg swings in. Manny won.

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King1999 said:
Hi guys, can ask a massive favour for you to check out my new FM story- Satisfying Stan. It is an Arsenal story which will have certain twists and incentive based on performance including the amount of transfer budget available, key players being sold and limited appearances for certain players. Please check it out, cheers
Click to expand...

That will be a massive challenge. I look forward to reading how you navigate the Ivory Tower politics of the gleaming halls of the Emirates. The job that every manager would dread to have ... replacing Arsene Wenger.
 
Gwen was leaning against the Alfa, waiting for me outside Kingsmeadow in the security parking area where the coaching staff and players park. She had an impish grin on her face.

"Either I'm in a huge amount of trouble or you've been naughty," I said.

"A wee bit of both," she replied cryptically. "Get in."

"Have you been waiting long?" I asked.

She shrugged and sat down into the car.

"I was watching the match with my Dad and Bro," she said. "You were rather animated this afternoon. I couldn't hear what you were saying but don't you ever get in trouble for complaining so much?"

I laughed and started the engine.

"First, I'm careful never to impugn the honest and integrity of the refs," I said. "Most of the time I'm asking for an explanation. Or I'm explaining how that was in fact a foul. Am I really that bad?"

"My sweet, Italian-American hunk of Whinge, the team is doing really well and I don't think that anyone cares," she replied very diplomatically as we pulled out of the parking lot. "You've won the league, you've won their hearts."

"No seriously," I said. "Am I making a spectacle of myself."

"You are an entertainer," she replied. "Seriously. If the match is dull you're out there shouting, waving and directing your players. Personally, I think you're really cute when you stomp about all angry."

"Now I'm cute?"

"Mmmm hmmm," she said and pinched my love handle.

"HEY!" I yelped nearly side-swiping the car next to us. "Leave the driver alone!"

She just giggled and slouched down in her seat.

"Hey, before you tried to get us killed, you were going to tell me something," I said.

"Hee ... yeah," she said. I glanced over. She looked even more impish. This is hard to do for a tall, strikingly gorgeous woman, but that's how she looked, impish.

"I had some furniture delivered today," she snickered.

"Some?"

"Hee ... um ... yeah," she said. "And they'll be donating the IKEA stuff like we'd talked about."

"Donating my stuff?"

"My sweet and sexy Italian-American hunk of short-term memory loss, don't tell me you don't remember talking about what we should do with the, and I quote, pieces of **** furniture I bought when I was dead broke?"

I grunted my disapproval.

"Do you remember everything I say verbatim?" I asked rhetorically. She pinched me again. "Hey! Okay, wait. How much did you have delivered and how much did you spend?"

"Well let's get some take-away, bring it back and decide where everything should go," she said. "Chinese? Indian? What?"

"Wait a minute here," I said. "You didn't answer my questions."

She answered by pinching me again.
 
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Monday, 19 October 2015 eleven-ish in the AM

We were training early so as to miss the afternoon showers the forecast was calling for. Tomorrow we travel up to Oxford and I had a number of things I wanted to work on, the most important being giving Dylan Griffiths his first start. Lovers and Michael have been ice cold away from Kingsmeadow and Oxford are the Us are giving up the most goals of anyone in the league.

What a great opportunity for the kid and an opportunity to send a message to Lovers and Michael.

My phone vibrates in my track suit pocket. It's a reporter.

"This is Enrico," I answer.

More questions about me leaving Wimbledon for Crystal Palace. As I've said to all the others, I'm staying at Wimbledon and that I'm perfectly happy at the club. I reiterate that nobody has contacted me or the club from Palace.

As I'm listening to yet another question from the reporter that is more or less the same question I've already answered but with slightly different semantics, I watch Jason Banton stumble in mid-dribble, collide with Leandro Depetris and go cartwheeling through the air. He lands all wrong on his head and shoulder and crumples to the ground.

"Uh, I've got to go," I say into the phone. "Just watched an injury happen. Thanks so much for calling instead of stalking me. Ciao."

Click.

Everyone gathers round as our physio Jon Whitney is asking questions. Jason tries to sit up. Whits forces him to remain lying on his back.

"Relax, guvnah," Whits says. "Talk to me about your neck."

"Well, for starters it ****ing hurts and I'd like to sit up," Jason replies.

So with Whits cradling his head and a guy on either side, they ease him up to sitting. Jason tries to loosen his neck and roll his shoulder but it's obviously painful. From my experience it's either a dislocated shoulder or he's going to need a chiropractor. Or both.

But more likely than not, he ain't playing tomorrow.

****.
 
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