The Enclave - An Englishman in Montpellier

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"Hello, Kevin? Kevin is that you? It's me, John. Listen, I've got a bit of an opportunity for you in the south of France if you're interested?
I know things didn't really work out in Southport but I've got a **** of a project on here and I think you'd be perfect for it. Don't worry about the language, I've got it all under control, you know me Kev! Look, get yourself on a plane, get out here and have a look around, meet the staff and see what you think. Can't say fairer than that can you? Yeah? Brilliant! I knew you'd be up for it. I'll let John know you'll be over sometime this week."


So here I am. Shaking hands with John Still and John Martin, about to take over as Montpellier manager. Never saw myself managing abroad but France isn't too far from good old Sheffield, and not only that but the two Johns were really carving out a little piece of England in Montpellier. I'm not sure what it was about the 25 degree weather and the exceptional wine that attracted them here in the first place, but as soon as John Martin bought the club he started reshaping from top to bottom. I knew the two Johns well from my Bolton days, we'd met several times at functions and awards dinners, you know, wherever the money was. The fact that my only managerial experience was a brief stint at Southport that didn't really go to plan for anyone didn't seem to put them off. I suppose it's the old adage; It's not what you know, it's who you know.


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"Basically, what we're after is a good strong core of English lads with a bit of French talent sprinkled in if needs be. I've got a few lads on the way already, who haven't quite hit the ground running at their clubs or have been in a bit of trouble or what-have-you. Fixer-uppers you know? But I'm sure with your guidance we can put together a team that can challenge for Europe here. Brexit or no ****** Brexit. Sound alright Kev? I'll let you get yourself acquainted with the place and I'll speak to you soon. Cheers!"


After that I was on my own, rattling around this vineyard estate they'd put me up in with just a few cases of unoaked Chardonnay for company. All I had to go on was a brief e-mail I'd gotten on signing the contract which said:

- Sign as many British players as you can

- Revive careers of former internationals or forgotten wonderkids
- Sign french youth to sell on at a profit

- Keep all the English boys happy

So I suppose that was my mission statement. Seemed simple enough. But as they say in Montpellier, 'La vie est trop courte pour boire du mauvais vin.' Which I think is something about drinking wine, I don't know I don't speak French. I'll let you know if I find out. Next time I might even meet the squad.
 
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Before I'd even seen our fixtures or met the staff or seen the facilities or done any of the normal day-to-day involved in managing a football club, the two Johns had organised a little meet and greet with the players. Apparently something had got lost in translation but none of the French lads ended up turning up so in the end it was just me, the board, and the boys that John Still had already sorted out the transfers of. Now I understood what the chairman meant on the phone when he said it was a bit of a fixer-upper.

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Daniel Sturridge: Lazy and goal-shy former Chelsea and Liverpool striker, had a few stinkers the past couple of years and somehow had a global ban overturned to come and play for us in Montpellier.

Jack Wilshere: Permanently injured former wonderkid with absolute bags of natural talent if he could only keep himself fit for more than one half of football at a time. We'll see what the medical team can make of him.

Ravel Morrison: Naturally gifted dribbler, flair for days, was absolutely nailed on for a spot in the England team for years to come when he made the breakthrough at United. Several years and many clubs later and he's got a reputation as lazy, arrogant and lacking focus. Let's see if we can point him in the right direction in the south of France.

Steven Caulker: Possibly the best of a bad bunch. Scored on his England debut, quickly forgotten as QPR descended into mediocrity. Spells in Scotland and Turkey followed and now Steven finds his way to Montpellier, at least with some sign he might be worth the wages.

Aaron Lennon: An aging, slowing winger is the opposite of what the doctor ordered for how I like my teams to play but there you are. Speaking of doctors, that's where you'll usually find Aaron. But at least he seems happy to be here.

We had a nice chat over a bit of bread and dips, and to be honest it seemed like they all understood that they were part of something new and they wanted to get their careers back on track here with us. You can't blame them really, mostly slated in the English press so who knows, maybe a spell in the south of France away from the prying eye of the tabloids would do them the world of good? I took John (Martin) aside and asked him if I was ever going to actually get to the stadium and meet everyone else.


"All in good time Kev, all in good time. Listen, Aaron's only just got here yesterday and I haven't had time to sort his accommodation what with the contracts and work permits and what have you, so you don't mind if he sleeps on your sofa tonight do you? I promise we'll get you down to the complex tomorrow."

I looked over and there's Aaron Lennon giving me a big cheesy grin and a double thumbs up. How could I say no?
 
As it turned out, Aaron Lennon is a pretty decent chap, was a very sound house guest and has definitely cemented his place on the right wing for the upcoming season. Until he gets injured. Next day of course, I got myself down to Domaine de Grammont which I have to say was unlike any other training facility I'd ever seen. A big old palace hotel type thing in the front, some massive tent buildings in the back, reminded me of a Butlins to be honest. Anyway, finally after ten minutes of me and Aaron walking aimlessly around we stumbled on our little tactics room and there at last was my team of staff. I could tell who was who because there was a very clear separation between the English lads and the French, and that's why we call it an enclave! Seemed as if the medical team were all French speakers, so that would help Jack Wilshere learn the language at least. As for the coaches, there were some friendly faces I instantly recognised.

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Of course I go way back with Ian Walker, and my assistant Kevin I knew of from Sheffield Wednesday. In fact there was plenty of talent here amongst the staff, I had to compliment John & John on bringing in such quality. All that being said, of course the idea is to help build our little English army abroad, so having so many English-speaking coaches would surely help Danny Sturridge and Ravel and everyone feel like they're at home here. And with that would hopefully come improved results on the pitch. I still wasn't entirely sure *why* John Martin had embarked on this endeavour but I guess that will become clear in due course.

I stood up and said a few words of course, and half of the people there probably understood what I said. I hadn't actually realised but our first league game was literally in three days time. I hadn't taken a training session, I hadn't organised a formation or tactics or anything, I'd just had a barbecue with Aaron Lennon and used a lot of google translate. I'd been told we'd sold a midfielder, not sure who it was exactly, a young french lad for a profit anyway so it fit the remit, and we'd got hold of George Evans on loan from Derby County to fill the gap. Here was the squad I'd be taking into our first game:


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Next time we'll have a look at sorting some tactics before we jump into our first game of the season against the mighty Olympique Marseille. Obviously if the English lads were fit they'd all have to play. Those were the rules. I think.


 
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