Luton Town : Staring into the Abyss

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks, Bang. I've going to go back and edit that in a sec

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01/01/10 - Share and share alike

My 2010 kicked off with a surprise phone call from Alison. I was lying in bed at the time, still recovering from the previous night’s excursion on the town. At first I didn’t know who it was because the caller I.D was hidden. There was no way I was going to ignore it though. Most of the people I know in the football business withhold their number.

“James, it’s Alison”.

“Well!” I said, sitting up on the bed. “This is a surprise. Called to say Happy New Year?”

“More like make good on a New Year’s resolution”.

“Which is what – to let me know your true feelings for me?”

“Actually it’s to be better at my job. I should have called you after I saw you at the strip club all those months ago and I didn’t. That was a mistake. I’m hoping to rectify that mistake by calling you now”.

“Do explain”.

On my bedside telly, Vic Mackay was being a tough uncompromising cop on The Shield, slamming a suspect’s head against the side of his police car. I put Vic on pause now and got out of bed, clamping the phone between head and neck as I put some socks on.

“We played our cards very close to our chest in the strip club, James. That was probably a reflex action, on both our counts. Having had ample time to reflect though I think it might be a good idea for us to pool what we know. About Randy I mean. And maybe about Jack Shandy too, if you know anything that is”.

“What makes you think I know anything about anything? If memory serves me correctly, I told you I was at the strip club to talk to Randy about the behaviour of some players, nothing more nothing less”.

“Maybe, but I think you know more. It didn’t occur to me at the time but your visit to Heavenly Hatters that night was remarkably close to the arrest of Shane Croft, you know, the club’s ex-bouncer who decided to make a new living selling dope inside your football ground?”

“Oh yeah. Him. I hear he got some serious hard time”.

“And rightfully so, but let’s not get sidetracked here. I think you know more than you let on that night and I’d love to know what it is”.

I’d reached the living room now. I hadn’t been deliberately heading for it; I just didn’t feel like being still. Bambi was almost glued to my heels as I walked back and forth across the flat. She probably wondered what the hell I was doing.

“Okay” I said after a pause. “You’re right. There is more than I’ve been letting on. Since I last saw you, I’ve met Jack Shandy, for instance. And either side of that I’ve met with Randy Begher twice. However, there is nothing I could relate to you from those meetings that could possibly be of interest, and that’s no matter what investigation you’re at the heart of. As much as both those guys are jackasses, especially Randy, I haven’t seen anything criminal. I honestly don’t know anything that could help you”.

“Regardless, I’d still love to hear about every single detail of all three meetings. Specific comments, interactions with associates, degrees of body language, anything you can possibly remember from start to finish. What might seem unimportant to you might be things I can read into”.

It suddenly dawned on me that in the second meeting with Randy he’d been in the possession of both drugs and a firearm. I wasn’t about to tell Alison that though. The retaliation from Randy H.Q, were he to find out I’d grassed him up to the police for even the slightest misdemeanor, didn’t bear thinking about.

“You know you sound rather desperate If I’m honest” I commented, stalling for time. “You can’t be turning up much if you’re having to call me up for this sort of s__t”.

“You’re right. I’ve hardly turned up anything in three months, and I’ve just been told the investigation is to be downscaled as a result. I’m under instruction to request my position as bar manager become part-time”.

“What’s the investigation about anyway? Give me specifics”.

“Agree to tell me everything about those meetings and I’ll give you carte blanche to ask me anything about the investigation, just so long as you keep anything I tell you to yourself of course. I trust you though”.

“Nah, forget it. I don’t have the time to give to you, and I’m not that interested in what you’re up to down there anyway”.

Silence at both ends. The conversation had possibly reached its conclusion. Alison though had one more ace left to play.

“Okay” she said, dragging out the ay sound. “What if I told you there was some other information I could give you that you might be interested in, information related to your personal life?”

‘About what, the fact I have a different father I never knew about? I already know all about that’.

“If it’s information about – a certain family member– forget it. I already know what it is that you’re selling”.

“Whatever you’re talking about, it doesn’t sound like the same information”.

“What information are you talking about then?”

“I’m not telling you. You either take the deal, or you get left to ponder what it might be”.

“How do I know you’re not just making this up to get what you want? And even if it’s not made up, how I do I know that I don’t already know what it is that you’ve got?”

That was hard to say. From another lifetime I was suddenly reminded of my mother (my only mother) telling me of how Peter Piper once picked a peck of pickled pepper.

“James, that’s a risk you’ll just have to take. I promise you though, even in the event you already know the information I have, you will definitely agree it would have been information worth trading with if you hadn’t already known about it. If you get me”.

'How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?'

“Oh I get you alright. I’m just struggling to see why you would conveniently happen to know something important about my life that I already don’t”.

“Oh come on, James. I’m a policewoman! I have access to a thousand ports of information the rest of society doesn’t. So what’s it going to be?”

I wasn’t sure. One thing was for certain though, even if I took the deal, it was a bad deal for Alison because there was no way I was going to include the gun and cocaine details in my report. And I did really want to waste half an hour of my hangover recovery time talking about Luton’s criminals in exchange for the lowdown on Stan the Man? ('Our sources tell us he's near Ipswich somewhere, James' - 'Is that so, Alison?')

Even if it wasn’t him she’d stumbled across on her giant police computer thingamajigs, what else could she possibly have unearthed? A Michael Bridges speeding ticket? A Charlie Daniels love child somewhere? I couldn’t see myself caring as much as she obviously thought I would. No. No deal. Not today.

“I’ll think about it, Alison. And Caroline says f__k you, by the way".

“James, you – “

She didn’t get any further. I hung the phone up and went back to my bedroom. That conversation had been just far too complicated for a New Year’s Day. And besides, Vic Mackay was getting restless.

[ScottleeSV]

02/01/10 - Mean Nene fighting machine

It doesn’t feel right this, playing Rushden on January 2nd. We’re barely past Christmas. It should be a match against the likes of Kettering or Tamworth today, somebody low down. It should be the sort of match a guy in the crowd can turn around to his buddy after a scoreless first half and say – “Still feels like Christmas really doesn’t it?”

Here we are though up in Rushden for arguably the biggest football match this club has played in years. It’s certainly the most important game we’ve had under my stewardship. A win today will take us four points clear for the first time this season. Conversely, defeat will send us back beneath our hosts again with twenty games to play. It’s a six pointer and no mistake.

The team news is reasonable enough. I’m able to keep the same team which beat Oxford apart from one man; George Pilkington. The reliable centre half misses out with a knock so David McCracken comes in for another start. Charlie Daniels remains sidelined so Clint Easton continues on the left wing. The word from Joe Dunbar is that Daniels should be back for the next game against Stalybridge in the Trophy. Seriously, what bloody good is that?

I didn’t bother wandering around Rushden today. What exactly is there to see? Instead I travelled on the team coach and put Rocky 4 on for everyone. I guess I wanted to inspire the players and get them in the right frame of mind. I might have even enjoyed the film myself if Brian next to me hadn’t spoilt it by air-punching Rocky on to victory during the final fight.

The name Rushden and Diamonds derives from the merge which took place in 1992 between Rushden Town and Irthlingborough Diamonds. Both of those old clubs were historically rubbish; the new one not so. Thanks to a huge input of wealth from one Max Griggs, the new Rushden were in the Conference National by 1996 and The Football League by 2001. They also developed their Nene Park ground into a fine modern facility containing over 4000 seats.

The Diamonds eventually got as high as League One only to begin a slow plummet back down again. Now in the Conference, their aim is to rebuild by first retrieving their league status and then taking it from there. Their manager is the enigmatic Garry Hill. He’s not the most loved of characters on the non-league circuit but his current side have hit all the right notes so far this term. 58 pts from 25 games is no small achievement.

We got a shock when arriving at the ground. Hundreds of Luton fans were there waiting to cheer us on from the coach steps all the way to the building entrance. Some of the players waved back and tried to look cool. I waved. Well, raised my hand Alan Shearer style anyway. Brian smiled nervously but kept his hands down.

“We are – going up, say we are going up! We are – going up, say we are going up!”

The chanting was relentless too. We’d practically taken over the car park, totally swarmed the place in a sea of white, orange, and dark blue (our three different kit colours). It was as if we’d arrived for the cup final or something. Madness. Madness everywhere.

In the changing rooms however the decibel level was less than normal. The players were nervous, business-like, each in his own little bubble doing whatever he needed to do, mentally, to be ready for what was coming. In the end I couldn’t stand it any longer so I began my speech earlier than planned.

“Right then, obviously it’s a big game today. Let’s not get too caught up in the moment though. They’ll be more nervous than us. We’ve already beaten them this season and they’ll remember that. Let’s get out there and play the controlled football I know we’re capable of. It’s a lovely pitch out there, calm weather. It should suit us. This place is no Weston Super Mare so no excuses on that score. It’ll be just like playing at home once you’ve had a couple of minutes to settle down. We’ve got a great travelling support out there and you know as well as I do they’ll out-sing that other lot, make you feel right at home”.

Wondering what to say next I took a moment and glanced around. Then the next words came to me.

“When I was a kid, one night my mum and dad were driving me to a relative’s house on a dark night out on the motorway somewhere. We had Liverpool against Arsenal on the radio, the big title match of the 1989 season. I was only a neutral. In fact at the time I probably didn’t even know much about football. That game though – especially the way Arsenal set about their task – really got into my veins.

“They were patient, unrushed by the home crowd, steady to the last, and they got their reward at the death. I’ll tell you; Michael Thomas’ goal in that game is the stuff of legend. Today is your chance to be a legend. Whether it ends up 0-0 or 5-5, this game will be talked about for decades just because of how important it is. Mark my words.

“Long after you’ve all hung your boots up, people will be talking about how Tony James won every header THAT day, about how Dean Bowditch chased down every ball THAT day, how Keith Keane won every tackle THAT day. It’s all THAT day, and that day is today. Hear me? Today is THAT day. Now go do it. And best of luck to you all. Have a good one”.

Nicholls and Keane (the latter perhaps forgetting he’s not captain anymore) both roared in tandem, and the team headed out. Brian and I waited until last and then walked out together. The roar from the 6000 strong crowd around Nene Park as we took to the field simply cannot be described on paper. It sounded like the noise of 12000.

In perfect harmony on a bright but cold winter’s afternoon, the mostly white of Rushden shook the hands of our mostly dark blue and then jogged off to warm up. The Luton fans, occupying two sides of the ground, were very loud indeed. Tickertape and balloons were everywhere. It was like a giant version of the scenes before the Wingate match.

The referee’s whistle sounded to bring the two captains together. It was almost time to get underway.

[ScottleeSV]

02/01/10, League Match 26

Rushden and Diamonds v Luton Town

GK – Dean Brill (82 apps, 0 goals)

DL – Richie Byrne (21 apps, 1 goal)

DR – Claude Gnakpa (76 apps, 2 goals)

DC – David McCracken (18 apps, 1 goal)

DC – Tony James (30 apps, 2 goals)

DMC – Kevin Nicholls (49 apps, 14 goals)

MC – Keith Keane (68 apps, 8 goals)

ML – Clint Easton (12 apps, 0 goals)

MR – Michael Taylor (21 apps, 0 goals)

FC – Michael Bridges (20 apps, 10 goals)

FC – Dean Bowditch (9 apps, 4 goals)

There were no ferocious beginnings to the game. As always seems to happen at every football match, somebody went for a long one out wide and overcooked it. In fact the first five to ten minutes in general were full of uninspired passing, slowly taken goal kicks, and endless whistle blowing. That was fine though. A draw would be a good result for us. I would definitely take 0-0 if offered.

When the chinks in concentration arrived, they arrived down our end. Rushden have any number of versatile attacking players – Tomlin, Burgess, Phillips, Knight, to name but four. I remember them from the first match. With quick, incisive little short passes they made their way towards our box in the 9th minute and Tomlin eventually shot a foot wide on the edge of the box. Close though.

Then we won a corner which came to nothing. Then Rushden won a corner which came to nothing. Then we were back into scrappy play again. Keane went into the book on the quarter hour, Mitchell having ghosted past him one more time than was good for him. Then came the half’s big controversial moment.

Bridges was felled twenty yards out and the ref gave it. Easton it was to take the kick but the wall charged it down. The reason they charged it down was because they started only six yards away from the ball and by the time Easton hit it were only about three yards away. Total joke, but the ref played on, and whilst Easton and Nicholls remained high up the pitch to argue with him, Tomlin and Burgess set up a good chance.

Tomlin dribbled out wide to the right and McCracken was taken with him. Then Tomlin crossed it. I don’t know precisely who he was aiming for because it all happened so fast. Knight flicked it on and there was Burgess in the far post vicinity. He should have scored really. On its way over the ball clipped the bar. Close but not quite. Big let-off.

They were upping the ante now, winning the midfield battle, the aerial battle, the possession battle, everything except the yellow card battle (Get in there Richie Byrne with the outstretched leg! Score two for the Hatters!). After 22 minutes Corcoran split Nicholls and Keane with a lovely disguised pass through to Knights. With his back to goal, Knights passed it short to Mitchell who the laid it short to Tomlin. The winger danced inland, riding on the shoulder of Gnakpa.

For some reason – I don’t know why – Gnakpa let him shoot. The shot completely bamboozled Brill and bounced once just before hitting the bottom left corner of the net. Goal for Rushden. Brill, who must have been unsighted, didn’t even dive. They might have been quiet up to this point but the Diamonds fans suddenly exploded like a party balloon. The unifying noises of screams, roars, and waving scarves turned two sides of the stadium into pandemonium.

I don’t like Tomlin, by the way. He’s so hard to catch hold of. He reminds me of this show-off I once encountered when my class had a school trip to the local ice rink. The guest teacher was this thirtyish good looking guy with wavy black hair who had all the girls wet straight from the off. He could go fast, spin around, everything. Nobody could get near him. Meanwhile, muggins here was sliding onto his arse all over the shop looking stupid.

Tomlin is the polar opposite but on a football field. He dribbles and spins his way around opposition players just like that damn ice rink guy weaving his way into all my girl classmates’ hearts. It makes me wish I could clone a hundred of Kevin Nicholls like that baddie in The Matrix and send them all in to take Tomlin down.

Getting back into the match proved a hard task. We were the passing ball well enough but offering little in penetration. Michael Bridges was being depressingly lazy. He’s been rubbish since his hat track and I’m seriously considering dropping him, especially with Spencer back and trying to get match fit. Bridges received a pinpoint ball from Keane in the 29th minute but humped it straight over the top from distance. Useless.

If only the home side were as kind when in similar positions. Five minutes later and Burgess recovered the ball straight after losing it to Tony James. Burgess found Phillips and he quickly found Tomlin, who then span and pivoted just like Torvil and Dean doing the bolero, but rolled into one person. Tomlin found Knights and here was a chance, fifteen yards out. Knights smacked it towards the opposite corner but Brill saved by palming the effort wide.

It wasn’t working, this. Easton’s lack of pace on the left was showing today. And with Taylor having a rare off day on the opposite side, our flank play was non-existent. Keane and Nicholls weren’t doing too badly, but Bridges up top was acting like he didn’t want to be here this afternoon. All combined, it just stank. Everything stank.

In the end we were lucky to reach the interval only one down. The home side, flowing with confidence by the conclusion of forty five, almost scored again in injury time when Osano’s long ball was flicked on by Phillips towards Knights again. Brill was in no-man’s land here but Knights’ high boot prodded the ball narrowly wide. If that had been on target it would have been a goal.

“Thank f__k for that” I barked at Brian once it was over. “Get them all in the changing room. I’ll be about five minutes”.

“Five minutes? Why? Where are you going? We’re one down! They’re gonna need a big speech or something!”

“I know, but first I’m going to let them stew for five minutes. I got the idea from this novel I’m reading. Basically, this detective catches a suspect but knows he’s got nothing concrete on the guy. So what he does is; he lets him stew in his cell before he interviews him. That way the suspect gets nervous and gives more away when he’s finally interviewed. It’s some kind of weird psychological thing”.

“But – but -” Brian stammered. “How on earth does that translate into football?”

“I don’t know but it’s the best I’ve got right now. We’re clueless out there. The normal type of approach with them isn’t going to cut it today. Just do it. I’ll be back in five”.

And with that I jogged off to the toilet before the players could catch up to us.

[ScottleeSV]

Five minutes later I tiptoed up to the away dressing room door and pressed my ear against it. I think I was hoping to hear deathly silence from within. Instead I heard shouting, arguments, accusations, and squabbling. It was then I suddenly realised I didn’t even know why I’d wanted silence anyway. Why did I want silence? Okay, in-fighting is surely a problem, but why silence? Why had I tried for that? I didn’t know.

‘Actually, I do know. I panicked and made a bad call without thinking it through! Letting them stew! My God, what was I thinking comparing this to a bloody police thriller?’

Time to repair the damage, or at least as much of it as I could in the time I had left. Briskly I shoulder-barged my way in and pretended to be doing up my zipper up.

“Hey hey!” I shouted. “What’s going on here? What’s all the aggro for?”

“Where the hell you been?” McCracken shouted.

“Taking a dump. Why’s everybody fretting?”

The players who were standing slowly sat down again. The temperature, simmering somewhere above a hundred at the time I’d entered, unconvincingly began to cool down. Brian looked at me mistily, unsure if I was still using the initial plan or not, whatever that had been.

“There’s no major problem here” I continued. “We were a goal down against Oxford and look what happened in the second half. Yes Rushden are good. So were Oxford though, so let’s not blow what happened in the first half out of all proportion. Now look, there are one or two things we can do better out there so let’s focus on those. Now listen up”.

I thus talked. They thus listened.

Ultimately though, it ended up being like any old half time autopsy only with five less minutes to do it in.

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We came out bright and breezy. Lifted by some generous encouragement from our fans, everybody started putting an extra ten percent in. We won a corner almost straight away and James met it well. Only a smart save from the keeper kept it out, from which point it was booted away by Gulliver. Roars sounded out from the away end. The chance was enough to convince them they were about to witness another Oxford.

Then Keane went on a mazy dribble in and out of the centre circle, eventually finding Taylor. For the first time in the match the young winger beat his man and rampaged down the right like we all know he can. The cross was headed down and away by Osano, but only as far as Nicholls. The Skip sensed glory here. As bodies lunged down in front of him, he blasted the ball at medium height towards the left upright. Marriott saw it well and tipped it wide.

Get the ball out to Taylor now seemed to be the mandate. In the 58th minute Easton found him with another of those delicious cross-field passes he’d used so well against Oxford. Taylor gathered and ran, and then Corcoran took him out. The tackle actually took the ball. The problem was; it was so hard it went right through Taylor’s thigh and left him in agony. On went Dunbar. He arrived alone but left with Taylor.

Corcoran still received a yellow, despite (correctly) claiming he’d got the ball. He needn’t have moaned too much though. He was still on the pitch where as his victim wasn’t, and as we only had the mediocre Will Buckley to replace him with, Corcoran had effectively won an important mini victory for all of Rushden. At very little cost to himself.

The injury was a match-defining turn of events. After 66 minutes Mitchell passed it forwards to Knights about thirty yards from goal. This time the striker had no option but to pass instead of miss. Out it went to Tomlin, still skating around, still causing torment. I remember feeling frustrated as he messed around delaying his cross, not because he was potentially about to create a goal but because he was wasting crucial time.

When the cross did go in it was to the near post. And there was Knights. With a yank of the neck he cleverly beat McCracken to the ball and glanced past a helpless Brill for the second goal. If we hadn’t been in trouble before we were in serious s__t now. The roar from the home fans was enough to make the ground vibrate. Knights flung himself down at the corner flag and all his team mates swamped him. One by one they all piled on.

As this was going on, Brian deflected my attention to the centre circle where Keane was waving his fist at Bridges. Keane seemed to have taken issue with something Bridges had done (or wasn’t doing). Regardless, I’d had enough of the 'K.K' for one day. As the home players took forever to get back in their own half, I grabbed Gill and with the linesman’s assistance sent him on for Keane.

Now Keane might not exactly have waved his fist at me as he trundled off but boy did he glare! It was saying a lot that glare. It was saying I’d just made a managerial mistake of the highest proportions. It was saying you don’t take your midfield general off when in a dire situation. It was possibly saying – ‘What are you doing? I haven’t even crocked anyone today yet’.

Unless I’m mistaken, Keane reached up to take his armband off and throw it at me only to then remember he’d relinquished it a good few games ago. Lucky for me that. Nasty things armbands.

Five minutes of hopelessness later and I knew the match was gone. The players looked deflated and even the fans had given up the ghost. As the Rushden mob sang and chanted on endless repeat, the Luton mob mostly sat with their arms crossed wondering how their team could possibly have come here and played so badly. With fifteen minutes left I threw on Pilkington because James had started limping. It was hardly going to turn the game though was it?

Our only effort in the final stages ironically came from Gill. It was a scuffed shot which bobbled towards the opposite corner he’d originally aimed for. Marriott dived full stretch and held on it. Rushden could have added a third if they’d wanted to, probably, but instead chose to showboat and endlessly pass it around near the corner flags. When you’re in our position that’s called boring negative football. When you’re in Rushden’s, it’s exhibition stuff and you’re lucky you were there to see it. All depends which side of the fence you're on.

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FINAL SCORE (att - 6307)

Rushden and Diamonds 2 (Tomlin 22, Knight 66)

Luton Town 0

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(other results)

Burton 0-2 St Albans

Droylsden 0-2 Grays

Forest Green 2-1 York

Histon 1-1 Ebbsfleet

Kettering 2-2 Northwich

Oxford 5-2 Kidderminster

Stevenage 4-1 Crawley

Tamworth 3-0 Cambridge

Weymouth 2-0 Macclesfield

Woking 0-0 Mansfield

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[font=Courier New][size=3][size=2]| Pos   | Inf   | Team          |       | Pld   | Won   | Drn   | Lst   | For   | Ag    | G.D.  | Pts   |[/size] [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 1st   |       | Rushden       |       | 26    | 19    | 4     | 3     | 59    | 28    | +31   | 61    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 2nd   |       | Luton         |       | 26    | 18    | 5     | 3     | 60    | 25    | +35   | 59    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 3rd   |       | Grays         |       | 26    | 15    | 7     | 4     | 57    | 26    | +31   | 52    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 4th   |       | York          |       | 26    | 15    | 5     | 6     | 48    | 32    | +16   | 50    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 5th   |       | Salisbury     |       | 25    | 12    | 10    | 3     | 46    | 28    | +18   | 46    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 6th   |       | Oxford        |       | 26    | 13    | 5     | 8     | 56    | 34    | +22   | 44    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 7th   |       | Stevenage     |       | 26    | 11    | 10    | 5     | 50    | 43    | +7    | 43    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 8th   |       | Weymouth      |       | 26    | 11    | 9     | 6     |  45   | 32    | +13   | 42    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 9th   |       | Histon        |       | 26    | 11    | 9     | 6     | 44    | 33    | +11   | 42    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 10th  |       | Crawley       |       | 26    | 12    | 4     | 10    | 45    | 44    | +10   | 40    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 11th  |       | Forest Green  |       | 26    | 11    | 7     | 8     | 34    | 30    | +4    | 40    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 12th  |       | Cambridge     |       | 26    | 10    | 7     | 9     | 36    | 34    | +2    | 37    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 13th  |       | Mansfield     |       | 26    | 9     | 9     | 8     | 37    | 44    | -7    | 36    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 14th  |       | Burton        |       | 26    | 9     | 7     | 10    | 34    | 40    | -6    | 34    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 15th  |       | AFC Wimbledon |       | 25    | 10    | 3     | 12    | 41    | 43    | -2    | 33    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 16th  |       | Kidderminster |       | 26    | 8     | 6     | 12    | 35    | 45    | -8    | 30    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 17th  |       | Woking        |       | 26    | 7     | 8     | 11    | 23    | 29    | -6    | 29    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 18th  |       | Ebbsfleet     |       | 26    | 6     | 7     | 13    | 24    | 40    | -16   | 25    | [/size][/font]
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[font=Courier New][size=2]| 19th  |       | Macclesfield  |       | 26    | 6     | 6     | 14    | 28    | 47    | -19   | 24    | [/size][/font]
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[font=Courier New][size=2]| 20th  |      | Kettering      |       | 26    | 5     | 8     | 13    | 33    | 45    | -12   | 23    | [/size][/font]
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[font=Courier New][size=2]| 21st  |      | St Albans      |       | 26    | 4     | 5     | 17    |  25   | 58    | -33   | 17    | [/size][/font]
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[font=Courier New][size=2]| 22nd  |      | Droylsden      |       | 26    | 4     | 4     | 18    | 32    | 60    | -28   | 16    | [/size][/font]
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[font=Courier New][size=2]| 23rd  |      | Northwich      |       | 26    | 3     | 7     | 16    | 23    | 52    | -29   | 16    | [/size][/font]
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[font=Courier New][size=2]| 24th  |      | Tamworth       |       | 26    | 4     | 4     | 18    | 24    | 58    | -34   | 16    | [/size][/font]
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[ScottleeSV]

04/01/10 - Press gang

He sneezed twice before speaking. Andy Branston it seemed had a little a dose of winter flu. You’d think he might have stayed in bed today then wouldn’t you? Oh no. Of course not. Not when James Martin was taking the stand after an away day shocker. Not unless he’d crashed his car somewhere remote and Kathy Bates had sledged both legs would Branston have missed this.

“Andy Branston, Hertfordshire Herald. James, it’s fairly unanimous everywhere you ask the question that Saturday’s performance was extremely poor. Do you feel you’ve let the fans down?”

“Not really. Even championship winning teams get beaten now and again. It’s very rare a team goes all season without losing. Let’s be mindful of the stats. We’ve only lost three out of twenty six league games. Our record is superb, and we’re still in a good position to hopefully win the title. Saturday is a setback, sure. It’s no cause for panic though”.

“But James” he predictably protested, pausing to wipe his nose. “Three thousand fans made the journey to Rushden! This was meant to be the moment you took the league by the scruff of the neck and said bye-bye to the rest. Surely Rushden now have a huge psychological advantage to carry with them for the rest of the season?”

“Again – not really. We beat them earlier in the season 2-0 and now they’ve beaten us 2-0. Horses for courses”.

Andy sat down and up sprang somebody else.

“Victoria Thornton, The Mirror. James, do you think you’ve overstretched yourself in the cup competitions this season? We’re into January now and you’re still fighting on three fronts. That can’t be healthy, surely?”

“Maybe, but the likes of The Live Bunny Cup and the FA Trophy give convalescents the chance to ease themselves back to full fitness slowly. Not only that but these competitions bring in vital sources of additional revenue, not to mention television exposure”.

Some of the journalists around the room began to chuckle. Andy rose halfway to a full standing position again and moved in for a sly dig.

“Come off it, James. How many people watch Live Bunny, about two per county?”

“Well you say that, but I when I was on it everybody in this room seemed to magically have access that weekend”.

“Give over, it was on Youtube! That’s how everybody saw it! It got passed around from inbox to inbox”.

“Oh”.

More chuckling. I wasn’t having a good time of it here. In fact I reckoned it was time to play my secret weapon. Doing my best to make it look as natural as possible, I rubbed the centre of my forehead as if experiencing a headache. Then I looked up towards the brown haired journalist on the back row, she with the huge black glasses and the devilish grin. Sure enough, she had her hand up.

“Errr, Nicola Willocks” she said nervously, reading from her notepad. “Kenilworth Underground Fortnightly”.

“The what?” Andy asked, spinning around to see who was talking. At least four others did the same. Nicola blushed and kept her head down.

“Ah yes” I said, wrestling their attention back to the front. “I believe that’s the new underground Luton fanzine that’s coming out soon. Am I right?”

“That's right!” said Nicola.

“Cool, so what’s the question?”

Nicola looked down at her notepad and concentrated hard. Andy meanwhile appeared to do the same, idly twiddling his pen as he did so. He no longer seemed intrigued by the new arrival. Neither did anybody else.

“Despite Saturday’s loss, you must be thrilled with your season so far. Fifty nine points from twenty six games is a superb achievement. What do you put this down to – your influence? The players? The training? The club diet? Or maybe something else?”

“Excellent question. Well, it’s a probably a combination of all those things you mention actually. Don’t get me wrong, I am the manager and I do pull the strings, but I can’t take all the credit. The players do a fantastic job of – “

“Okay okay” Bill Tulip interrupted. “I think we all know you’ve had a good season, James. The big worry I personally have though is the continuing decline of Michael Bri – “.

“Hang on!” Nicola counter-interrupted. “I haven’t finished writing his answer from the other question down yet”.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. She was actually genuinely trying to scribble my words into her notepad. Bill glanced backwards to flash a look of annoyance.

“Like I was saying” he eventually persisted. “The big worry if I was a Luton fan right now would be the performances of Michael Bridges. And a lot of people are saying you still don’t know what your best forward line is”.

“Of course I know what my best forward line is! I’ve been pretty consistent with it throughout most of the season, haven’t I?”

Rather tragically, I thought, Bill had brought stats with him to prove me wrong on that score. Cue another outbreak of mockery and murmuring from around the room. Andy had his hand up again. So did Victoria and Brad. Ignoring them all however, I rubbed my forehead again and pointed at Nicola.

“Nicola Willocks, The Kenilworth Underground Weekly” she repeated unnecessarily. “Where do – “

“Hang on" said Jonathon Pantsil of Five Live Sport. "A minute ago this new fanzine was fortnightly".

“Errr, well – “

“Ah but that’s what makes it so underground” I intervened. “Sometimes it’s going to be weekly, sometimes fortnightly, and sometimes monthly, and until it comes on sale each time, nobody knows, you know, a bit like an underground rave or something”.

Jonathon shrugged and returned glare to notepad. Andy though swivelled around and gave Nicola a good long curious stare. So did one or two others.

“That’s right!” smiled Nicola. “So anyway, my question was going to be, where do you see yourself in five years time?”

“Another excellent question. Well, obviously I’d like to rise up the pyramid as far as I can go with Luton. I haven’t ruled out other things though. In fact I’ve always rather fancied the idea of testing my skills out abroad”.

“Oh, me too! Did you watch that programme about the beach resort interns last night?”

“Errr, No. No I didn’t, Nicola. So anyway, staying with the football - always good to stay with the football - I’m very much looking forward to the future, whether as Luton boss or as boss somewhere else”.

Assuming this to be the end of my answer, several familiar hands shot up again. Knowing I couldn’t point at Nicola twice in succession, I opted for Scowcroft.

“Word on the street is, James, you’ve acquired a new signing with a distinctly – royal – flavour, if you get my drift”.

“Well, yes, that’s true. It’s a bit early in Scott Spencer’s career to be referring to him as royalty though”.

I checked my watch. Even feigned a look of – oh no, is that the time? Then I walked towards the door.

“Sorry, folks, gotta go. Hope you all got enough for your respective publications. Bye for now”.

Cue questions being asked on top of questions as everyone rose to their feet in protest. I was gone though. I’d had enough for one day. Bad enough being pestered about the Rushden game without the subject of Henry Rhodes-Chatto dropping into the equation as well.

And Nicola Willocks was going to have her press pass removed before the next Q & A session. Top priority.

[Satio]

Unlucky on the defeat to Rushden, was a vital game at the top too. Fantastic read and plenty of detail - just how I like it.

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks, Satio. Glad you like it

----------------

05/01/10 - Who ya gonna call?

It was the day of the Spiritseekers filming, and most of the employees were very excited about it. Unlike the playing staff, who are free to roam around as they please, I had to almost coerce the office staff into knuckling down and getting on with whatever work it is they all do. The constant rattling and dragging and bumping of equipment along the corridor outside was a constant distraction, not only to them but also to me.

Carl Merrill’s gang of three (a number including himself) was hugely disproportionate to the amount of things they’d brought with them. They literally had a huge truck out in the parking lot which had so much stuff in it necessary to the filming that it took most of the morning to unload it. Judging by the faces of Erica and Bob, who both briefly emerged on their respective floors to observe, neither had anticipated there would be quite so much disruption.

“Okay then” I announced in the communal offices, rising from my desk. The fact Brenda had just gone out to the toilet was not a coincidence. “Seeing as we’re all obviously very distracted anyway, let’s have another distraction. It’s Brenda’s birthday on Thursday. I thought we might have a collection, you know, a pound a person or something and then I’ll get her a card and present”.

“There was never a collection when it was my birthday” Darren pointed out.

“That’s because I’m only just introducing the idea, and when better to start than at the beginning of a new calendar year?”

“Fair enough”.

Judging by the nods from Caroline and Nicky, they were also down with the plan, so to speak. Without further word I walked around with my palm outstretched and collected coins. Darren put exactly one pound in, Nicky also a pound, and Caroline twenty pence. Not wanting to embarrass her, I pretended the donation was gold coloured and returned to the front without a fuss.

“Excellent work, people. That’s four pounds we’ve got now, one from each of us. I’m going to scout around the building whenever I get the chance throughout the rest of today and see if I can get that total up to ten. Then tomorrow we’ll have ourselves a little conference over E-mail or something and decide what to get her”.

I only just managed to finish that speech before Brenda returned. Obviously it had only been a 'number one' she’d been doing. Not that I want to dwell on it.

“James, I think you should have a word with those TV people” she remarked, sliding back into her desk space. “They’ve set up some cameras in the ladies toilets. I know they want to catch some ghosts but that’s going a bit far. I don’t particularly want what I do in the toilet recorded on one of their reels. All the other rooms fair enough. Not the toilets though. Come on”.

“Yeah that’s fair enough. I’ll go have a word with them now”.

Unbeknown to Brenda, this kind deed would also give me a chance to hunt for more birthday donations whilst it was still fresh on my mind.

Carl’s main operations centre of choice was the canteen. I guess he figured this was the most neutral area available to him, even if it ran the risk of p!ssing off anybody wanting a quiet lunch. I can’t even begin to describe all the wires going up and down the stairs, all the pulleys, monitors, and thermometers, all the cameras, stanchions, and toolkits. Just try and imagine total chaos with a distinct media look to it and you’re probably close.

By the time I’d stepped over it all to reach ground zero, I’d completely forgotten about Brenda and her toilet complaint. I’d forgotten about the birthday collection too. Half an hour later I would suddenly remember both and sort both out. For now though I was just immersed in the world of Spiritseekers. You couldn’t not be once you saw all the screens and sensing equipment lined up everywhere.

“Almost ready?” I asked.

“Yeah, pretty much. It might seem early to get ready but this way we’ve got time to fix any logistical problems we might get on site. I was just explaining so to the blonde lady down the hall a minute ago”.

“Have you got any then? Logistical problems I mean”.

“Nope. None so far. Should be ready to rock and roll once dark comes”.

“I might pop down later, see how you’re getting on. Is that allowed? I don’t want to pop up on your motion trackers and make you think you’ve got a ghost when you haven’t”.

“No that’d be fine! You come down if you want. Just remember though it’s a long process. We’ll be doing our jobs pretty much all night long. You might not see much. Or hear much. Even when the ghosts appear, or say something, or do something we’re aware of, it’s never usually for long. Or often".

Nodding in understanding, I stepped to the window and looked down over the pitch. Would Carl and his cronies turn anything up? I doubted it. And yet I wasn’t entirely ruling it out either. Nicky and Chantelle had to have seen something that night all that time ago. I doubt it was Tommy Wiggins but they had to have seen something. And what was it Fred had seen?

From Fred’s experience all those years ago, to Nicky and Chantelle fleeing the building, to me and Alison waiting it out like lemmings. To the research about Tommy, the chat with his mum, and the renaming of the souvenir shop. To the appearance of Carl and his TV show. All roads led here.

Time to see if there was any merit in it all, or whether it was all a load of fuss about nothing.

[ScottleeSV]

05/01/10 - Fright night

I quickly regretted turning up to the filming. Once all the fun introductions had been made, a coffee break enjoyed, and a tale about a naughty ghost in Sussex told to me, it was all downhill. The lights went out, the night vision on, and yours truly was shooed into the nearest shadow to watch from afar. Except there was nothing to watch. There were no ghosts, no noises, no action, nothing.

Occasionally Carl and his buddy Jim would exchange a few words and swap a few lenses around on the equipment, maybe even walk up and down the corridors for five minutes doing a ‘sweep’. It didn’t change the fact there was nothing to see though. After half an hour of this I was well and truly ready for home and bed. All that remained was to pick my moment.

But then, amazingly, it happened. A noise from downstairs.

“Oh my God!” squeaked Amy, the third and final member of Carl’s team.

“Shush!” said Carl.

“Where’s it coming from?” Jim whispered, swivelling his camera around.

I stayed quiet. The noise was still ongoing even after all the comments. It sounded like an owl noise, only it couldn’t have actually been an owl. I’ve never seen or heard an owl in the Kenilworth Road vicinity before. We haven’t even played Wednesday since I became boss.

“Ooooh-wooooo!” – That’s the best way I can describe it. And on it went, over and over again.

Carl raised his hand in the dim canteen light and made some kind of a signal to the others. I had to suppress a giggle at this. He looked like a platoon sergeant directing troops through the jungle. Jim and Amy weren’t laughing though; they were moving. Gingerly I followed in their wake.

Soon we were in the corridor and heading for the staircase. We weren’t jungle soldiers anymore, we were those marines in Aliens walking around that complex with giant guns. All it needed was Carl to go – “Nobody touch nothing!” - And it would have been perfect. And still the woo-woo-wooing continuing. I reckoned it was coming somewhere near the foyer, maybe even outside.

“It sounds very promising this” Carl whispered into Jim’s camera. We were almost at the bottom of the stairs now. “Will it still be there when we get there? I don’t know. Is this Tommy, beckoning us, reaching out to us, calling us, telling us, guiding us, bringing us together from beyond the grave? We’ll soon see. Steady does it. One more step. There we go. On we tread. I think it’s coming from outside”.

I had to remind myself it probably wasn’t a ghost. It had to be an animal, that or some drunken fool messing about. In the dim atmosphere of an empty building at just past midnight though, it’s surprisingly easy to get freaked out. Whoever you are that’s reading this, you’re probably doing so under bright lights in a safe secure location. To you the reader right now the idea of ghosts probably seems unlikely.

I repeat though – when you’re creeping through a dark empty building in the dead of night, part of you starts to believe it’s possible, and you really do have to remind yourself it can’t possibly be possible. I don’t think Carl, Jim, and Amy were taking that view, mind. They believed it was a ghost out there.

As we crept closer and closer to the front door, I was reminded of an old joke I’d heard as a kid. It went something like this..

‘In a dark dark house there was a dark dark hallway, and in the dark dark hallway was a dark dark staircase, and up the dark dark staircase was a dark dark landing, and off the dark dark landing was a dark dark room, and in the dark dark room there was a dark dark cupboard! And in the dark dark cupboard - was an electrician mending the fuse’.

It seemed funny back then. Maybe not so much now.

The woo-wooing was still going on but definitely more spaced out than before, almost as if the owl/ghost/drunk was getting tired. Casually Carl let me open the front door for him and we all stepped into the car park. Amy was the one with the biggest light and slowly she shined it from left to right over all the empty parking spaces.

‘And in the dark dark car park – was Darren playing the fool'.

Seriously, it was him! I could see him stood next to the gates with his hands on his cheeks preparing for his next woo-woo. Amazingly, despite being easily the least experienced ghost hunter in the car park, I was the one who spotted him first. I made his position just as Carl raised his hand and made an enclosed fist signal, whatever the hell that meant (hold your positions?).

“Darren, you clown!” I shouted, but too late. He’d already taken off down the road.

“Dammit!” Carl said, adopting a more relaxed stance.

“Well well” – Jim.

For a moment I thought they were going to go all Hitler on me and accuse me of ruining the broadcast by not controlling my staff properly. Not so. Carl even claimed the stunt had livened up what had otherwise been a very boring evening thus far. In surprisingly good spirits (no pun intended), the three of them turned and made their way back to the door. Not me though. I was done for the evening.

“I’m out of here, guys. You let me know what you turn up”.

“Oh, you’re off?” Carl queried. “Okay. Yeah we’ll let you know. We’re bound to catch something eventually. One time, when we were staking out this farmhouse up in Lincolnshire, we had to wait seven hours before finally catching a break sometime around 4am”.

“What break was that then?”

“We heard a funny noise coming from the chicken pen. Thing is though, it couldn’t have been any of the chickens because they were all asleep”.

“Err. Yeah. Good one”.

“I’m only kidding, James. You have a safe trip home. Cheerio”.

And so we parted ways.

For all the build-up to this night, Tommy still remained elusive. Same old same old. Hopefully, once the Spiritseekers crew buggered off in the morning, everything would go back to normal and we'd put a big full stop next to this business once and for all. How Alison would surely laugh if she knew I was still p!ssing about with all this.

‘I mean seriously, what a load of bollocks’.

[ScottleeSV]

07/01/10 - Rookie

Henry Rhodes-Chatto’s first day of training began as unspectacularly as his guided tour. Again I’d expected scores of journalists to accompany his arrival and again none showed. Bob Wharton explained why over the phone.

“Can’t have the press at training” he began. “What if he doesn’t match up well with the other players? Then the media will think it a bit dodgy when he gets picked for the first team. No, the press only get the full picture a couple of days before whichever match you pick him for. Oh, and James, we haven’t got a league game for two weeks now, so for heaven’s sake pick that one. We can’t be dragging this thing out forever”.

Our next league game is Histon at home. Prior to that we’re at home to Stalybridge in the FA Trophy and home to Salisbury in The Live Bunny. Histon might sound a nice game on paper but the Cambridgeshire side are currently ninth in the table and exceeding all expectations. They’ve lost only six of their twenty six league games this season, and back in September they managed a creditable draw against us. Doesn’t sound so nice when you put it that way does it? I can't afford passengers.

Anyway, thankfully Henry turned up without his annoying aunt today. He was kitted out well too; dark blue tracksuit, trainers, and shouldering a rucksack I was informed contained boots and shinnies. Good start. After brief small talk I showed him into the home dressing room to get changed. The rest of the first team squad were already in there.

“Listen up peeps” I shouted over the din, as Brian suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “I would like to introduce to you all our brand new signing. This is Henry Rhodes-Chatto. He’s a young lad who’s been recommended to us. He’ll be just training and settling in to begin with, but who knows, sooner or later he might play. We’ll see. Anyway, make him feel at home won't you?”

“Y’alright, mate?” – Aidan Quinn.

“Hey there, Henry” – George Pilkington.

“Welcome to the champions elect” – Charlie Daniels.

“Hey, Henry. Don’t sit next to Tony here. He’ll nick your deodorant and take it home any chance he gets” – David McCracken.

“Aw, give over!” – Tony James.

They weren’t put off by his skinny frame and goofy rich kid smile then. Not yet anyway. That was good. My tactic of making him out only to be a squad player had done the trick. They didn't feel unduly threatened by him.

As was usual for Thursday training, we began with some gentle limb stretching and then laps around the field. After that I organized a couple of five a side matches using cones. Normally I leave the mocked up games until the end, but today I desperately wanted to see if Henry could play or not. Thus I brought forward my timetable.

“Okay, gather around everyone! Time for some five a side action!”

“Bit early for it, isn’t it?” Brian whispered in my ear. “I’d have thought you might go the other way entirely today and not play any five a side at all – let Henry blend in gently kind of thing”.

“I thought about doing that but sooner or later we’re going to have to see his ball skills, and so are the other players. The powers that be want him in the team for Histon on January 20th. That gives me just fifteen days to get him into shape. If it needs it. I can’t afford a nice gentle introduction”.

“Yeah okay, see your point”.

A minute further on and the four teams were picked. Henry was partnered with Nicholls, Byrne, Cadamateri, and Gill. They were to go up against Niven, Quinn, Easton, Buckley, and Taylor. In a well practiced manner everyone chose a half and if needed be put bibs on. Looking a bit like a lost puppy, Henry began the game near his own goal and unofficially adopted the position of running goalkeeper (with the goals only a yard wide, there was no need for a permanent keeps).

For a minute or so I actually thought the kid was going to be good. He took his first touch well and found a man with aplomb. His positional sense wasn’t bad either. The problems began when Buckley shoved him off the ball near the halfway line. Some cat calls rang out and the newcomer looked embarrassed. From that point onwards he regularly treated the ball like a hot potato, passing it prematurely and not always to a team-mate. He even ducked out of tackles.

Smelling a rat, Kevin Nicholls eventually jogged over to Brian and I during a break in play.

“This kid’s s__t” he said bluntly. “What position’s he supposed to be? He can’t tackle and he can’t pass. Seriously, what’s he supposed to be?”

“We’re just kind of – trying him out” I replied with a slight stutter.

Taking a sip from one of the water bottles before throwing it back towards Brian’s feet, El Skip jogged back into the game without further comment. Two minutes later though Richie Byrne looked in my direction and gestured with his arms as if to ask exactly the same questions his captain had.

I couldn’t exact bemoan the inquisition. Henry was all over the shop out there now. His first touch, initially reasonable, had completely gone to pot. He looked knackered too. Thanks mostly to his mistakes his team were 4-1 down and heading for a drubbing.

“Okay, that’s enough for today!” I called out, intent not to let that happen.

“Eh? What are you talking about?” Keith cried out from the game taking place in the other half. “I’ve just won a f__king penalty and I haven’t taken it yet!”

“It’s still not been long since Christmas so I’m easing you all back in gently. We’ll have a fuller session next time. Off you go. Good job everyone”.

Keith might have looked miffed at this but nobody else did. I know from personal experience; footballers love shortened training sessions. It means more time on the Xbox. Before I could change my mind everyone jogged/sprinted back to the changing rooms. Keith followed on at a slow stroll, occasionally glancing back in my direction with contempt. Henry didn’t go back at all.

“So how did I fare then?” he asked, a bit like a teacher’s pet trying to gauge how he’d done on his maths test.

“Errrr not bad, Henry. Not bad. Go and get changed though. I need to talk to Brian about tactics”.

“Oh, okay! Splendid”.

And off he went, briefing taking a moment to locate what was presumably his own personal drinks bottle. I couldn’t help wondering not for the first time if he perhaps had ginger beer in it.

“So what do you think then?” I asked Brian, joining him in picking cones up.

“He’s not good enough. That much is obvious”.

“So what am I going to do then?"

Brian arched his back up as if feeling a twang of pain.

“I don’t know" he said, lightly slapping my stomach. "You’ll think of something. Probably”.

‘Thanks mate’.

[tenthreeleader]

Love this story arc. Well conceived and executed.

[ScottleeSV]

Cheers, Tenthree

---------------

08/01/10 - Moving forward

The night before Stalybridge I whisked Chantelle off to a restaurant called Aztec Parlour in the centre of Luton. Neither of us had been here before. It was a lively place, fundamentally Mexican themed. The front desk man showed us to a booth seat by the wall and left us some menus to glance over.

The decor of the place was very bright, containing numerous oranges and reds and various curiosities. One of the walls for instance was made up of old beer boxes stapled to the wallpaper. Above the bar were a collection of humorous road signs with messages like – Men without shirts, no service. Women without shirts, free drinks. All the tablecloths had chequered colour combinations. It felt more like a bistro than a restaurant.

From the stereo system played a bubbly Spanish pop song, the first of many we’d listen to throughout our stay. I didn’t understand the words but it wasn’t hard to figure out there was a love vibe to it. The guy was probably singing about some senorita he’d once romanced at the Costa Del Sol. Something like that.

“Look at this” Chantelle said pointing at a small glass case built into the wall. Inside was a small toy bull bearing an equally small toy cowboy. To the side was a coin slot.

“It probably moves around when you put your quid in”.

“Have you got one then?”

“A quid? Well, yeah, go on then”.

Doubting that the quality of entertainment would be relative to the cost, I dug a pound coin out and dropped it down the chute. Immediately the bull began swinging its rider around to a cheesy little tune.

“Yee-haw!” said the rider (who looked remarkably like Woody from Toy Story). Chantelle laughed. I just groaned. Twenty seconds after first stirring, the contraption juddered to a halt.

“That was quite funny”.

“Would have been funnier if he’d been thrown”.

“Don’t be boring”.

Ordering our meals proved no less quirky. Once we’d decided what we wanted, I raised a hand to beckon the waiter. Over he galloped carrying a huge red rag.

“Underlay, underlay!” he shouted, sliding up to our booth. He then proceeded to take our orders by writing them down on the actual rag.

Just after he left, Chantelle dropped a bombshell.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Course you can”.

“You know how – at Christmas – we had a really good time at my mum’s, and how we said all those nice things to each other?”

“Yeah”.

“And you know how we spend pretty much half the week staying at each other’s houses?”

“Uh-huh”.

“And you know it’s been –like- almost six months we’ve being going out?”

‘It’s more like four, isn’t it?’

“Yeah” I replied anyway.

“Well, what do you think about moving in? You know, as in, permanent? You could move into our place. Or, we could move into yours?”

'Ouch!'

Now don’t get wrong, it wasn’t the worst idea in the world. I just thought it was maybe moving a bit quick. Do people really move in together after just four months? Maybe some do. A lot probably don’t. Obviously she did, or wanted to, whatever.

“Yeah I’d like that” I said, taking a big gulp of breath. “However, and it’s a big however, I think maybe we should wait until summer”.

“Why?”

“Well, off the top of my head, two reasons. Firstly, I’m going to be very busy with work between now and May. After that though I’ll have three months where I won’t be working as much. That would be the perfect time for moving”.

“It would only take one or two nights for one of us to move all our stuff over. It wouldn’t affect your work much”.

“Maybe not, but if we’re going to move in together I want to do it properly. I’d like to get a proper house, you know, with a mortgage. Sorting something like that out takes time, the sort of time I’ll have during the summer months. It’s all very well squeezing into each other’s flats but it doesn’t seem worth it. We might as well wait a little bit longer and do it properly.

“- Yes I could probably hunt for a house with you at the same time the football season’s ongoing, but truth is the three month break seemed to go on forever last summer. I could do with more things to do during the off season”.

Just after my long speech concluded, a small bang sounded out from the next table inwards. One of the waiters had just set a customer’s drink on fire and was bowing. His spectators clapped him rigorously as he then pocketed his lighter and scurried off someplace else. Chantelle bit her lip and turned her head back to me, also clasping my hand that was closest.

“You really want to get a proper house?”

“Absolutely”.

“Okay then, I can wait until the summer”.

“Atta girl”.

“No later than that though. I’m serious, James”.

“So am I”.

We held gazes for a moment in silence. Then Chantelle received a text message. As she checked it, I looked around the restaurant and thought about how I was going to tell Dilic I soon wouldn’t be needing his flat anymore. I’m sure he’d be fine with it. Cassie might not be, but hey, can’t please everyone.

[ScottleeSV]

09/01/10, FA Trophy Last 32 Round

Luton Town v Stalybridge Celtic

GK – Dean Brill (83 apps, 0 goals)

DL – Richie Byrne (22 apps, 1 goal)

DR – Claude Gnakpa (77 apps, 2 goals)

DC – George Pilkington (77 apps, 3 goals)

DC – Tony James (31 apps, 2 goals)

DMC – Kevin Nicholls (50 apps, 14 apps)

MC – Keith Keane (69 apps, 8 goals)

ML – Charlie Daniels (28 apps, 3 goals)

MR – Michael Taylor (22 apps, 0 goals)

FC – Michael Bridges (21 apps, 10 goals)

FC – Dean Bowditch (10 apps, 4 goals)

For the first time since I can remember we were at full strength. Shame that couldn’t have been the case for the more important game with Rushden, but we’ve got to look forwards now and not dwell on the past. Today’s match with Stalybridge was a good chance to get back to winning ways. With home advantage and a strong side out, the omens were favourable.

Unsurprisingly however, the crowd was poor. I guessed two thousand at most. Stalybridge brought about fifty. As the match kicked off the away contingent were vocally the loudest by far, intent on enjoying their big day out to the maximum. Around the rest of the ground, well, it was a bit like a mausoleum.

The early action matched the atmosphere. It was insipid, slow going. Keith Keane stung Walton’s hands in the third minute but that didn’t lead to an avalanche of such moments. By the end of the first quarter the visitors had settled well, keeping possession competently and not giving much away. Then came their big moment; about twenty five minutes in.

A cross from the left by Barwick was met by Joynes on the edge of the six yard box. He had a free header here, albeit slightly on the stretch. Because of this he had to go for precision rather than power. Brill leaped high and far to his left to keep the header out but barely. As the keeper plummeted down onto the goal-line, the ball also fell down near the goal-line.

Barker had a near enough open goal here but mishit the shot down into the ground. The lack of sting on it enabled Tony James to get his body frantically in the way. The ball spun off his shoulder and bounced diagonally sideways out for a corner. How that didn’t go in I will never know. Both Joynes and Barker put heads in hands as if wondering what might have been.

The scare woke us up. Not fully, but it did make us stir. Just a little. Charlie Daniels rolled one infield to Nicholls after 29 minutes and El Skip embarked on one of his tornado runs through the middle, the type that reminds me of a big bulking rugby forward charging between the posts for a try. Nicholls eventually jinked one into Bowditch and the striker turned and shot on the turn. Walton got a flapping hand to it and just tipped it wide. Good football.

From the resulting corner Pilkington powered a firm header goalwards but it hit Bridges. The striker then reacted fantastically quick for a big man to swivel and poke it in the direction of the far corner. Enter defender Smart, who had the audacity to actually chest the ball down on the goal-line before hooking it away to safety. Still, we were picking up the pace now. It was positive.

Soon Charlie Daniels entered the fray, accepting a ball from James and then going on one of his mazy little runs. On the edge of the area he burst past Saunders with a quick change of pace and fired one low. Walton got a hand on it but could only parry it across the six yard box line. Bridges and Cowan slid in there together but the blue shirted Cowan it was who got there first. Nothing doing for Bridges today, it seemed.

The impressive Walton then blotted his copybook by going in another book, the referee’s little black one. The crime was to time-waste over a goal kick. Rather amazing that someone would do that as early as the 35th minute but then I guess Stalybridge were starting to feel the pressure now.

Or were they? Just as a goal for the big boys seemed imminent, James mis-controlled a long ball and the dangerous Joynes nipped in behind him. Byrne and Pilkington quickly converged left and right but Joynes took an early shot, volleying from twenty yards at a slight angle. From where I was sitting it looked destined for the net. However, Brill dived full length in midair for a spectacular tip wide. Great save!

Just as everyone was digesting that, in went the corner and defender Smart beat short arse Cadamateri. The header was down and firm and once again a man on the line had to save the goal. On this occasion it was Richie Byrne, deflecting it away with his knee. The Blue Square North side were really giving it a go.

Lucky for us then the half time whistle went shortly after. One or two home boos rang out but nothing that will make the local rags. I had fifteen minutes to wake up my sleeping wounded. On the speaker system meanwhile, The Manic Street Preachers began to sing So Why So Sad?

[ScottleeSV]

“I’m not liking what I’m seeing out there, guys. It’s too loose. Way too loose. I know you’re all still p!ssed off about Rushden. So am I. It’s gone though. Been and gone. Furthermore, if you think sulking and taking it easy and losing this game is going to make you feel better then you’re kidding yourselves. Battering this lot might make you feel better but losing won’t”.

“A draw’s no good either” contributed Brian. “Think of the extra trip”.

“Brian’s right. Do you really want to draw this game and end up having to go up to Stalybridge on a Tuesday night? That’s a hell of a trek. Come on, sort it out, guys. Sort it out so we can draw a line through Rushden and move on. Now come on. Big effort let’s go”.

To give them their due, a big effort was exactly what they made. Not long after kickoff Taylor gathered down the right and ran at his marker. The guy he was up against backed off and backed off to the point where his feet were on the corner edge of his own area. From here Taylor cut inside, refused a left footed shot, and squared for Nicholls. The Skip also refused to shoot, swiping it accurately left in the direction of Daniels.

Daniels let it come across his body and then tried to bury it from twelve yards at an angle. His misfired though straight into the crowd. Still, good move, and it woke the crowd up too. Stalybridge, I was relieved to see, now had that look about them, the one where they’d subconsciously decided to settle for what they’d got. More fool them.

In the 50th minute there was another chance. This time Daniels was the provider, swinging one in from deep. Bridges had no right to beat Walton to the ball and he didn’t, but what he did do was come out honours even; the ball deflected off a combination of Walton’s glove and Bridge’s head to pop up perfectly for Bowditch to head. The striker though mistimed the twisting of his own neck and headed a foot wide of the presented open goal.

The Blue shirts were retreating in panic now. They needed an outlay. They weren’t getting one. After 58 minutes Taylor curled in a free kick level with the edge of the area only to see it headed away by Smart. On the fringe of the dead ball line Taylor kept it alive and had a second bite of the cherry. This time it was a low whipped effort which whizzed across the vacuum between players and keeper and out for a goal kick. Speaking of that keeper (Walton), he had a complete meltdown at his defence for that one, hitting his own hand and screaming like a non-league Schmeichal.

After receiving the ball from Keane in the 61st minute, Daniels didn’t waste any time flinging it into the area yet again. This time confusion reigned as half a dozen players tried and failed to either shoot or clear. Eventually the ball dropped to the man who’d started the move – Keane. The midfield maestro slammed a low shot which went through a defender’s legs and nestled in the bottom left hand corner. Finally!

The way he raced away kissing the shirt you’d think he’d just entered a time warp and scored the winner at Rushden a week ago. Still, no matter what the competition, and no matter whom the opponents, it’s always nice for a midfielder to score a goal I suppose. The crowd appreciated it too, chanting “Keano! Keano!” about fifteen times in a row.

The onslaught ever so briefly continued. After 65 minutes Bridges went through but was forced wide. Rather than cross it he dribbled back towards the edge of the area flanked by two defenders and set Nicholls up for the pile driver. Nicholls then gave it some welly and Walton had to be alert, beating the ball down into the ground and away.

We were never going to keep this pace up forever of course and with about twenty minutes left our intensity levels subsided. However, because we were only one up I veered on the side of caution when it came to substitutions. Indeed I didn’t make my first one today until the 72nd minute, Gill coming on for El Skip.

Then in the 76th minute a very popular substitution indeed. It was the return of Danny Cadamateri, getting his first bit of pitch time since starting in the Weston Super Mare replay on December 16th. Danny replaced the tiring Bridges and went up front to join Bowditch. A minute later however we got caught cold. Barwick worked a nice exchange with Stott to send substitute Burke away down the left. The newbie, displaying more than a little bit of Charlie Daniels in his ebb and flow, began forcing Gnakpa progressively backwards.

The ever present right back though is a football league quality player. He timed his eventual tackle to perfection, even if he made in such a way as to allow Burke to turn around and retrieve the ball again. When he returned to Gnakpa a few seconds later, Burke didn’t try to beat him a second time. Instead he passed sideways to Joynes. Joynes then passed back to Burke. Anything doing? No, back into the area to Joynes. Too crowded here so back out to Burke.

It was nerve jangling waiting to see who would finally shoot, but now, finally, Burke would take the chance. His effort was on target but deflected into the side netting by the right boot of Gnakpa. This outcome was greeted with a huge roar, despite the conceding of a corner. The crowd seemed to think Gnakpa had just made a contribution as big as Keane’s down the other end.

When Fitzpatrick headed one a yard over from the out-swinger, it would prove Stalybridge’s last chance. The final ten minutes were played out to a constant pattern of fruitless probing from the visitors leading to frantic breakaways by the hosts. We almost a second goal this way on two occasions, Bowditch being flagged offside when he wasn’t (grrr), and Cadders chipping one over from a Taylor centre.

----------------

FINAL SCORE (att - 2023)

Luton Town 1 (Keane 61)

Stalybridge Celtic 0

----------------

(some other FA Trophy scores from today)

Kettering 1-0 York

Worcester 0-0 Eastleigh

Altrincham 0-2 Rushden

Chelmsford 0-1 Weymouth

Gateshead 3-2 Welling

Kidderminster 2-0 Crawley

Histon 1-3 Oxford

Basingstoke 1-2 Burton

Macclesfield 0-2 Telford

Grays 1-0 Northwich

Cambridge 2-1 Braintree

Bromley 2-0 Bishops Stortford

Farsley Celtic 0-3 Southport

[tenthreeleader]

This is such a nice and easy read. It's good that you are able to keep your lines and arcs fresh after all this time -- I know how hard that is to do. Take a bow for this effort.

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks, Tenthree. I've not quite reached writer's block stage yet, but hey, I try and keep an eye on the road for such things. It's all you can do.

--------------

11/01/10 - Stubborn as the hills

The s__t finally hit the propeller today over Henry Rhodes-Chatto, and predictably it happened during the five a side training matches. After all, that’s when an inadequate footballer is at his most vulnerable, when he’s playing actual football. Any old sod can do a few sit-ups and laps around the field. Playing the game though requires some degree of skill, a department Henry is severely lacking in.

The watershed moment came when Henry received the ball in midfield and tried to find Bowditch. I think the pass was meant to be chipped. Henry though achieved absolutely zero elevation, and the ball went straight to a smirking Kevin Nicholls on the opposing team. This was the umpteenth crass mistake from the young royal in the space of five very uncomfortable minutes. His team mates had had enough.

“Stop, stop” called out David McCracken, putting his hand up in front of Nicholls like a lollipop lady. The Skip obeyed, probably because he was bored of having such an easy game in the centre of midfield.

McCracken picked the ball up and walked towards me. Two of the other four players on his team, Cadamateri and Brill, followed suit. Everybody else hovered uneasily behind them, neither shying away nor fully committing from the confrontation to come. Henry meanwhile slithered off to one’s side looking glum.

“What the hell is this, boss?” McCracken demanded to know. “I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings but that kid over there can’t play. Seriously, he’s awful! Why’s he here?”

“Get back to the game, David. I’ll be the judge of who is and who isn’t suitable for – “

“Nah boss, he’s right” Brill interjected. “Seriously, what’s the deal? He was s__t last time but people just thought he was nervous. If anything though he’s even worse today! Why’s he not in the reserves or something? I don’t get it”.

The other game (which was being refereed by Brian) had ceased to function too now. Its players were standing around watching from afar.

As for the subject of Henry, I was a bit split down the middle. Yes he was s__t, fair enough. I did not however want to see half a dozen players slag him off to the manager right in front of his eyes. That kind of thing can have a detrimental effect on someone’s self esteem not just on the football field but also off it, and it's not something I want to be responsible for causing.

“Okay, yes he hasn’t been great today” I said. “In fact, Henry, come out of the game for a minute and let’s talk about what you’re doing wrong. Everybody else get back to it. Play four on four for a while”.

“You mean four on five?” – Danny Cadamateri.

“No, I mean four on four. Mr McCracken is going to be doing laps around the field whilst I’m away. I won’t tolerate players coming up to me and embarrassing other players, especially new ones who haven’t settled in yet. If anybody’s got a problem with anybody, they come see me in private. Now go on, off you go, David”.

Remarkably McCracken slinked off to begin his first lap without a single word of protest. I guess he felt his suffering was worth it if it meant I was going to (hopefully, in his eyes) tell Henry his play was no good and that I was dropping him to the reserves. I couldn’t do that though, could I? I was operating under orders from the board.

Once Henry and I were alone, and the two five a side games had resumed, the young royal surprised me by talking first.

“I know my form has been dastardly today but I am still settling in” he claimed. “Practice makes perfect, and I haven’t been playing this sport for very long yet. Don’t worry though; I’ll get better in time for the Hilton match”.

“Histon” I corrected him. “Henry, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way but I think playing for Luton Town might be a little bit out of your skill level. I know you apparently did well for that pub side I’m told you played for, but the professional game is very different. Now look, we both know I was only persuaded to take you because of your royal connections”.

“What in the devil are you trying to say?”

“What I’m saying is this; for the good of the club and the fans I’d like you to give strong consideration to being the big man here and resigning from the first team squad before the Histon game. If you do that for me, I will be more than happy, as a return favour, if it’s what you want, to give you a shot with the reserves and see if you can work your way up the normal route. Oh, and you’ll have to tell your aunt and Bob and whoever else that it was your decision and that it’s what you really want. It won’t fly otherwise”.

Adopting the look of a devastated public schoolboy who’s just been told a stash of pot has been discovered in his dormitory, Henry looked down at the ground and sighed heavily. He looked resigned to his fate i.e. very much about to go along with my suggestion, albeit with the expected amount of sadness that comes with any such rejection.

“No” he eventually replied though, looking back up at me.

“You what?”

“I said no. I don’t want to resign from the squad. Like I said, I’ll get better in time for Hilton”.

“Henry – “

“No, don’t Henry me! I’m sick of being picked on for being posh! Everybody needs a chance in this world, James. Everyone! I know I only got signed up here because of who I am – I’m not naive - but even if my skill level isn’t up to it, as you put it, I’m still going to have my one chance against Hilton. If I blow it then, after weeks of practice, fair enough. THEN I’ll resign! Until then however, a jolly good day to you sir!”

And off he marched, the sucker for punishment that he is, back to the five a side. Feeling just a little bit speechless, I stood on the same spot miles from anyone for quite some time.

'He must be kidding me!'

But he wasn't of course. I know this because the royals don't have a sense of humour. Everyone knows that.

[Twizted_seed]

Just try get one of the old boys to teach him how to break ankles and with his determination put him at FB.

Saw Cadamateri in the news the other day and thought of this story. Doing well.

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks, Twizted. I'm sure James is pondering both and more!

-------------

12/01/10 - The new sheriff

It was more of the same at today’s training session. Highlight? Definitely Henry running out of the way of the ball when Keane faked a lion roar. As a player, you know you’ve hit rock bottom when that one fools you.

After it was over I got changed and headed straight up to the second floor. The countdown to Histon had reached eight days and three hours. I was running out of time. Pretty much since breakfast I’d had an idea that maybe Dilic could help me. The guy kinda has this aura about him when it comes to problem solving. If anybody would have a solution to this mess for me (not least owing to his position as a club director) it would be Dilic.

So consumed was I by Henry’s latest woeful performance, I stepped straight into the Serbian’s office without remembering to knock. For the briefest of split seconds I flinched in expectation of Brute’s huge hands lifting me up by the short and curlies and tossing me straight back out again. He wasn’t in here though. Neither was Dilic.

“Excuse you!” said Erica from the big man’s chair. I suspected however it wasn’t his chair anymore. Sat in front of Erica - and this was equally surprising – was Caroline.

“I was looking for Mr Dilic” I explained.

“This isn’t his office anymore. Why do you want to see him? Is it business or personal?”

“Business”.

Erica considered this for a moment and then switched her eyes back to Caroline.

“Okay we’re done here. You can go”.

“But I – “

“Out! Shoo!”

Waving her hand like an impatient queen dismissing a servant, Erica didn’t have to wait long the second time around to get her own way. Caroline stood up and breezed out of the room without so much as looking at me.

“What was she doing up here?” I asked.

“Oh only the usual, came to whine about her salary, even brought me this pitiful little self-produced Word document outlining all the duties she does and why she’s worth more money and blah blah blah. Even had the cheek to include a section documenting the pay of workers doing similar roles in other companies”.

“To be fair she really – “

No. I didn’t have time or the patience to get sidetracked today. I had to focus on Henry. Caroline’s longstanding issues with pay would have to wait for another day.

“Why have you moved into Mr Dilic’s office?“ I changed course with.

“I’m a director now, as you’ve probably heard”.

“Yeah but there are loads of other directors here, ones who have been doing the job a lot longer than you. How come last in suddenly gets the big plum office?”

“All the other directors, Dragomir included, don’t have day jobs here. I do. I’m still the club accountant. Therefore I get the good office. Dragomir didn’t want to give it up but he was outvoted by the rest of the board. If you want to find him now you might try my old office at the end of the corridor; in effect we did a direct swop. I doubt you’ll find him there much though. He won’t even acknowledge he has an office here anymore, likes to claim he works from home”.

As Erica watched on with a subtle smile, the smile of corporate victory, I took a moment to properly glance around the room. It was sure different to when Dilic had it. There were framed scenic pictures on all the walls, and the carpet was dark pink instead of white. Where once had been exotic animal cages were now business journals and vases filled with tulips.

And yet, in a way, the room felt more dangerous to me now than it had when Dilic had been doing his Blofeld impression. At least there was some semblance of a code of honour in that world, the shady underground world (as it were). Just so long as you didn’t screw the alphas over like Dave had, chances were you wouldn’t get piranha-ed.

On planet Erica however there were only people screwing other people over even when they didn’t deserve it, and Erica could screw with the best of them. I didn’t like it in here. I didn’t like it in here one bit. Time to leave.

“What’s this business with Dragomir then?” the web mistress asked as I headed for the door. As I paused and turned around, she left her chair and adopted a half standing half sitting position on the front of her desk. Her red business suit was sickeningly alluring.

“Henry” I said.

“I thought as much. I heard about your little attempt at persuading him to leave the club. He was rather upset about that”.

“He’s a dud footballer, Erica. He’s going to cost us three points next week, three points which in turn might then cost us the league title”.

“He’s also cost you a verbal warning”.

“You what?”

“You heard. Next it will be a written warning, then a second written warning, then dismissal”.

In a momentary attempt to stay cool, I looked down at the pink carpet again. The sight of it though only stoked my anger even more.

“You’re giving me a verbal warning? For what, requesting the removal of a player?”

“For colluding with playing personnel with a view to disrupting the financial model of this football club”.

“Oh for crying out – “.

“As I said, next time it will be a written warning”.

“To what end? You can’t sack me! I’m second in the league and still in all the cups!”

“I think you’ll find I can and I will! You think you’re the only guy who can win a crap league with a big club? Any fool can do that, and the fans know it. If I have to get rid of you on some behind the scenes technicality then believe me I’ll have absolutely no qualms! Now f__k off back out there and make sure Henry’s in shape for his match!”

She’d slowly inched her way further and further towards me during this exchange, a bit like one of those slow moving Tonberry creatures from some old Final Fantasy game I vaguely remembered. Regardless, I was out of there the moment the F-word came out. She was clearly in the mood to sack me and I didn’t want to rile her up any more than I obviously already had.

‘Oh please God let there be another board takeover of this place at some point. I’ll take Terry Venables, Gillette and f__king Hicks, anybody’.

Eight days, two hours and fifty minutes.

[banglared]

‘Oh please God let there be another board takeover of this place at some point. I’ll take Terry Venables, Gillette and f__king Hicks, anybody’.

Eight days, two hours and fifty minutes.

You might want to reconsider that

You never know, he might show a bit of trickery on the wing... or something.

[ScottleeSV]

lol maybe

--------------

14/01/10 - Mousetrap

There’s someone like him everywhere you go, in every school, office, hospital, club, basically any establishment you can think of. There’s lots of him. He’s a common breed. Chances are you know at least one of him.

Primarily he’s a meat-head, a walking talking lump of masculine dough. And right from the day he springs out of his mother’s loins, he’s a menace. Her majesty’s pleasure might not necessarily be his destiny but the repressed memories of many a traumatized teenager certainly will be.

So who is he?

He’s the guy who stole your dinner money when you were twelve, perhaps with three grinning minions stood behind him.

He’s the guy who put a brick through the windows of the local youth centre one night but never got caught for it, even though everyone secretly knew it was him.

He’s the guy who got his first girlfriend when he was fourteen, said girl perhaps being the exact same one you’d fantasized about previously but couldn’t work up the courage to speak to. HE though somehow managed it. Not that he respected the prize; two months later they split up. But he had ample fun whilst it lasted, and as such, wasn’t that arsed about the loss. Oh, and once that girl was single again you still couldn’t pluck up the courage.

He’s the guy who kept you awake the night before your mid-terms by running up and down the campus corridors at three in the morning.

He’s the ringleader for lads’ expeditions into places like Ibiza and Majorca, the guy who drenches families by dive-bombing into the hotel swimming pools, who causes a mass vomiting orgy by coaxing others into drinking more than they should, who has sex with some random girl on the beach and then faces off with a foreign copper. And somehow doesn’t get arrested.

He’s the guy who messes about and plays practical jokes in the office, yet still gets a bigger rise than you.

He's the guy who takes you by surprise on a dog walk by suddenly whizzing past you at seventy miles per an hour in a thirty zone. Just for the hell of it.

You know who I’m talking about. You know somebody just like him.

The one we have at Luton Town is called Keith Keane.

-------------

“Keith, over here” I shouted, as the midfielder paused from doing his sit-ups.

“What’s up, chief?” he replied, ambling over.

The rest of the squad meanwhile continued about their business, some doing exercises, some passing balls to each others, others standing around idly. I’d deliberately let everyone do their own thing at the beginning of training today so mine and Keith’s rendezvous wouldn’t be as easily noticed.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Yeah. What?”

“Seriously, Keith, can you? If I tell you what it is and you blab to someone, I’ll never trust you with a secret again”.

“I’m not a blabber. Tell me. What is it?”

So I told him. I told him who Henry was (in relation to the rest of us peasants), and also the board’s wishes that he start against Histon in the next league game. Predictably Keith was horrified, and it took me the best part of two minutes just to calm him down so I could get on with what else I wanted to say.

“There’s no way around this, Keith. It is what it is”.

“What position are you going to play him then?”

“I don’t know”.

“Can’t you just sub him after five minutes? If they only told you he’s got to start the game, you could still start him but then take him off almost straight away”.

“No, the board would tear me to shreds for that, never mind what the press would make of it. No, at the very least he’ll have to play for an hour. After an hour I could take him off, claim he’s not yet ready for ninety minutes, that sort of s__t. The game will probably be lost by then though”.

“Oh”.

He’s not the brightest boy in the universe is Mr Keane. Instead of ask me why I was telling him and him only about all this, here he was wasting time suggesting ways around the problem I obviously would have already dismissed.

“Look, I’ve gone through lots of ideas in my head to get around this, but there’s only one I can think of that might actually work”.

“What’s that then?”

“Well, basically – “

I paused, sensing Richie Bryne swoop in nearby to pick up a cone. When he was gone again, I briefly put my arm around Keith’s shoulder and moved him even further away from the others than we already were. My heart was beating fast, and I had a twinge in my leg. I didn’t feel comfortable at all.

“The conclusion I’ve come to is, there’s only one way Henry isn’t getting on that field against Histon, and that’s if he’s injured”.

“Yeah, if he’s injured” Keith repeated, looking like a man trying to do two add two. “What are you saying?”

“What I’m saying is I really wish Henry would – get injured – in training, for instance. Then he wouldn’t be able to play against Histon”.

Silence. For at least twenty seconds. Then the penny dropped.

“I could take the little f__ker out” he said with a grin. “I could make it look like I didn’t even mean it”.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, Keith, but you do whatever you feel is the right thing. Ten minutes from now, by the way, there’s a good chance Henry will be lining up opposite you in today’s five a side”.

“You know what? I think I was wrong about you, boss. You’ve got more balls than I thought”.

Without replying again I glanced briefly at his amused expression and then walked away.

“Hey!” he called after me, but not so loud that anyone else would hear. “After this is over you owe me a favour, right?”

“Yes” I said softly.

A few minutes later I crouched down by the bib bag and pretended to be checking my clipboard. In truth however I was trying to stop myself from shaking. I couldn’t see all the permutations very clearly right now but I sensed there was a good chance I’d just made one of the worst decisions of my life.

Keith meanwhile stood forty yards away volleying footballs in the direction of Dean Brill as if he didn’t have a care in the world. I didn’t want to look at him.

As for Henry, currently passing a ball back and forth to Will Buckley, well, I didn’t want to look at him either.

‘Oh God what have I just set in motion?’

[ScottleeSV]

15/12/06 - Coogan Law

The office was its usual manic self; people on phones, fax machines and photocopiers chugging away, multiple shoes marching up and down a hard carpet floor, and so on. I'd just returned from lunch. My own shoes helped me down to my desk and practiced arms extended forwards to begin their rigorous afternoon routine.

“Hey” said Johnny Huitson, standing up and putting his big duffel coat on. “You can take that dispirited look off your face. I’m off to court for a no-show this afternoon. How’s that for dispiriting?”

“How do you know they’re not going to show?” Tamara Higham asked, stealing my right to answer the question. Tamara sat to Johnny’s right.

“The guy already told me - that’s why”.

“Easy afternoon then” she opined.

“Waste of a drive more like”.

I was happy to let them joust. I had a busy afternoon ahead if I wanted to be out of here by 4pm. There were letters to write, calls to make, people to meet, you name it.

“Right I’m off. Don’t forget to do your fantasy team, James”.

Oh, and I also had my fantasy team to sort out. Thanks for reminding me, Johnny. 4pm departure time? No chance.

“How are things with Charlotte?” Tamara asked.

“Rocky”.

“No more parachute jumps on the horizon then?”

“No”.

Whilst it was fresh on my mind, I decided to do my fantasy team right here and now. Then it was out of the way. Opening an internet window and quickly reducing it to a size approximately twenty percent of the screen, I clicked on my Google link and began the process of remembering what the weekend’s fixtures were.

Just then though my work phone went off. Not an unusual occurrence. Not a welcome one either.

“Good afternoon, Coogan Law, James speaking”.

“Hi it’s Karen Franks from Bower and Stapleton”.

“The Fletcher case right?”

“That’s the one! Saves me the trouble of reciting your reference. Anyway, down to business. I’ve just got back from three days off and I’ve come across a rather disturbing file note concerning – “

“Concerning the case being struck out” I finished off for her. I wasn’t in the mood for messing about today. I was irritable. Probably Charlotte’s fault.

“Yes. Now listen, James, I know you were in your right to do it. However, I really hope I can persuade you to reconsider. Mr Fletcher relies on his legs to run his shop. Incapacitated, and with no hope of compensation – “.

“Karen, I’m really busy. The case is finished”.

“James, he made a mistake writing what he did in the witness statement. He panicked. He didn’t think he was going to get any money. He doesn’t understand the game”.

“He lied and got caught out is what he did".

“No, he panicked”.

“Karen – “

I paused, leaning back in my chair. With an idle hand I took my underperforming right midfielder off the team and clicked into the transfers section. Football management was so much less stressful than this crap.

“He’s a scared man, James. He’s scared he won’t be able to provide for his children anymore. His leg is ruptured beyond – “

“Don’t presume to tell me about legs!” I snapped, arresting the attention of Tamara across the way. “What do you want me to do, cancel my application just because this guy is worried about his finances? It’s not my company, Karen. I have to do what’s best for Coogan irrespective of personal feeling”.

“I know all that, but just this once I implore you to reconsider. Striking this guy out is completely immoral”.

“It’s too late. It’s already gone up to the judge”.

“Oh come, he won’t have looked it over yet. You know what Leeds Court are like. You can still retract it. Come on, what do you say? You’d still get split liability. It would hardly be losing”.

There was sweat, clear droplets of it, now glistening on my forehead. This office was hot at the best of times (not least due to all the body heat) but right now it was like a furnace. My head felt like it was going to split in two. What was the right thing to do, help Mr Fletcher keep his livelihood or do the job I was being paid for? Who was I going to transfer into my fantasy team? Was Charlotte okay today? Too many questions. Too much stress.

“James? Are you there?”

“Yeah just give me a second”.

“Okay”.

What couldn’t be denied was the aching in my lower thigh. Where had that come from? Too much sitting was most likely. Sitting down. Every day. All day. Just like that Fletcher guy was about to do, except he’d probably have to do it at home living off beans on toast.

“Do you want me to call back, James, maybe in an hour or so, give you some time to think about it?”

‘If I cared more about this wretched industry, I’d tell her where to stick it. Some people break limbs. Deal with it!’

“No, it doesn’t matter. I’ll withdraw the application today”.

“Really? You serious?”

“Yeah”.

“You’ll write to confirm on paper?”

“No because I never made the application in the first place. Catch my drift?”

“Okay, I’ll accept that. Thanks, James”.

She went on to thank me no fewer than five times before hanging up, and I think two of those were on behalf of Mr Fletcher. One person who certainly didn’t look like he wanted to thank me was Bernie Cohen, the middle aged file handler to the right of me who I guess must have returned from somewhere during the call. I hadn’t noticed.

“Did I just hear you correctly?” he mused.

“Yeah, what was all that about?” Tamara asked. “You didn’t just deliberately – “.

“No” I broke in, closing the fantasy football window and getting out of my chair. “Well, in essence yes, I backtracked, but there were mitigating factors. It’s too complicated to go into”.

Such is the complex and unpredictable nature of the job, both colleagues accepted this without further comment and got back to work. As for me, I went on an impromptu toilet break. I needed to splash some water.

[ScottleeSV]

14/01/10 - Mousetrap (part 2)

When I suggested to Keith he do Henry some damage, I only had a minor injury in mind. Something like a bruised hamstring or a chipped metatarsal, something to keep him out of contention maybe five or six weeks. The idea was to buy myself more time to talk the directors around (or at least do something). Hell, if faced with a short layoff before making even one appearance, part of me hoped Henry might have a change of heart about the football career thing altogether.

Like I said, five or six weeks. That ought to have done it. Keith though had other ideas. Keith decided it would be better to just put his highness out of action permanently. That way the whole problem would be extinguished forever. It took the Irish midfielder all of two minutes to go in where he knew it would hurt. Judging from the angle the studs were showing, together with the sheer amount of thrust he got on the lunge, it was as if he’d actually the made the conscious decision to try and blast Henry’s leg clean out of its socket.

Back when I used to follow ashes cricket, it always amused me when a fast bowler not only clean bowled someone but also made the middle stump go flying out of its hole in the process, just to really take the p!ss. Equally funny was the inevitable moment of understatement from the commentator straight after – 'Ooh! No doubt about that one'.

In a macabre way that was exactly my first thought when Henry buckled under Keane’s assault – Ooh! No doubt about that one. The royal’s leg made a horrible cracking noise and bent itself in an unnatural direction. Then he fell to the floor and screamed. He didn’t just scream once either. He screamed over and over again, drawing the immediate bedside attention of not just his team mates but every single player from the other five a side game too.

“Oh my god” said Bowditch, crouching down next to the wails. He looked afraid to touch whatever it was he was looking at. I couldn’t see what he could see because I hadn’t moved from the touchline. I was frozen stiff.

“Jesus Christ!” shouted Nicholls, looking first at Henry and then turning to Keane. The skipper then put his hand aggressively on the assassin’s chin and pushed him backwards. “What the f__k is the matter with you? What the f__k are you doing?”

“I was going for the ball!” Keane explained, holding his hands out innocently as if checking to see if it was spitting with rain.

“You reckless b_stard! Look at him! Just look at him!”

Last to the scene of the accident was Brian, huffing and puffing from his quickfire sprint/jog/slow-amble.

“Okay, out of the way, let me through” he panted. If was as if he suddenly believed he was a closet doctor.

Brian though took one look at the carnage before retreating out of the circle. Michael Taylor came running up to offer him a mobile phone at this point and seemed to be asking if he wanted to be the one to call for an ambulance. Brian took the phone but glanced around looking for me before dialling any buttons. Instinctively I put my hand on my forehead as if too shocked by what had happened to even move. Brian turned his attention back to the phone.

Henry meanwhile had now swopped wailing for aimless jabbering.

“Oh my god – oh – dear me – oh my – good lord – I wish I was somewhere else – please make it stop – it really hurts – god it hurts”.

It was too painful to listen to. Quietly I came to life now and began moving not towards the scenes of commotion but the dressing room. It didn’t take long to get there. Once I’d arrived I flung my hands against the nearest wall and looked down at the wood. I felt sick to the bone. I wished I could backtrack twenty minutes or so. What if by some complication Henry’s leg had to be amputated, or if he simply wouldn't walk again? I really hadn’t thought this plan through at all.

‘Christ I hope he’s not too bad’.

The sound of boots could now be heard coming down the tunnel. Within seconds in walked Keane. He looked as cool as ice. He was even halfway through eating a Dairy Milk bar.

“I think I caught him well enough” he said, his words barely understandable over the munching. “You can even see the bone if you look real close. Anyway, ambulance is on its way. Fred’s gone to get the emergency gate open”.

Without speaking I came away from the wall and looked him in the eye, my expression deadpan.

“Chocolate?” he followed up with, offering his last piece.

Still I remained silent. Before anything else could be said, Buckley and Bridges walked in. Over the next few minutes they were all going to be staggering back in; I could hear the next clump of boots trotting over the tunnel tarmac already.

It took a huge amount of willpower on my part, but just in the nick of time I did what was necessary.

“You’re a bloody idiot!” I shouted at Keane, all for the sake of the two B’s (and whoever else was imminent). “I won’t tolerate reckless tackling like that in a damn training session! This time I’ll accept it was an accident. If it happens again though, there will be seriously disciplinary repercussions”.

“Yeah I know I’m really sorry, boss! It was a really bad challenge. I feel terrible about it".

‘Like f__k you do!’ I thought, and walked out.

In the segment of corridor immediately outside the room, I bustled past some more players and straight into Brian. He looked winded, like he’d taken a soft punch to the stomach.

“Where you going?” he asked. “Don’t you think you should say something to the other players, calm them down or something? Anyway, Nicholls, Pilko, and Cadamateri are going to wait out there with Henry until the ambulance arrives”.

“Okay, good, and yes I’m going. Can you say something to the others? I need to get out here. I need some air”.

“Yeah, okay”.

He looked unconvinced though. His eyes seemed to be boring into me as wondering why I seemed to be being the biggest pussy out of everyone over this. It probably hadn’t escaped his attention I’d been the first to head for the dressing room.

“I know you probably think I’m being a pussy, but errrr, I’m kind of errr emotionally sensitive to people getting leg injuries. You know how it is”.

“Oh, of course!” he cried, slapping his own forehead. “Of course, of course! S__t, yeah you get off. I’ll wrap things up here. I’ll call you later if I hear any news about how bad Henry is”.

“Okay”.

“Bye”.

So off I went. The next few hours were going to be nerve wracking.

[Jibby123]

Mate, well impressed with this. Lot of hard work gone in. Nice one.

[ScottleeSV]

Cheers Jibby I appreciate it.

----------

15/01/10 - Friday bunny

The news on Henry is still a bit vague. He’s broken his right leg; we know that much. As to how bad a break it is, too early to tell. In my experience however people with broken legs usually spend at least six months out of the game and sometimes nine to twelve. In any event, he’s out of the picture for the rest of this season. That’s a certainty.

Not to say my problems on the subject are over. Apparently the police were interviewing Keith and some of the other players earlier this afternoon. Not all of them, just some of them. I was not one of the people contacted. You’d think I would have been though wouldn’t you? The word around the dressing room is the police for now are treating the incident as an unfortunate accident.

Henry though has still to be interviewed. It worries me what direction the case may go in if Henry tries to press charges. I spent most of last night having horrible visions of Keane being hauled back in for a follow-up interview.

“We know you did it on purpose” Policewoman Myers says in the vision, pacing slowly around an eight foot by eight foot concrete interrogation room.

“I didn’t and you can’t prove it” smiles Keane, arms crossed.

“Be that as it may, Mr Rhodes-Chatto is still pressing charges. Did you know he’s a member of the royal family? Well he is. He’s seventeenth in line to the throne. In fact, the queen mother herself has thrown her complete weight behind Henry’s case. The family are apparently in the process of hiring the best legal muscle in England, money no object. Oh I dread to think how much in compensation this is going to cost you, Keith”.

At this point Keith shuffles slightly uncomfortably, his air of invulnerability dented.

“Don’t worry though” Myers continues. “If you’re sensible, there might be a way out of this mess for you”.

“Really? How?”

“Well, you might have been the one doing the actual leg-breaking, but if I didn’t know better, I’d say this incident has a distinct James Martin feel to it. I think you were acting under his orders. Weren’t you?”

“No”.

Myers stops pacing and bends down to Keith’s side, placing her mouth close to his ear.

“Look, I’m not interested in you, Keith. I only want Martin. With your help I can put him away. Now, if you give him up, maybe we can make a deal on your behalf”.

“Oh alright” Keith sighs after a brief pause. “I never liked that f__ker anyway. Get me a pen and paper”.

It’s a horrible thought. It really is.

Both the media and the board of directors have been strangely quiet on the subject so far. I firmly expected Erica or somebody to call me last night and angrily demand to know why the club’s new star attraction is in hospital. Nobody has though. At the moment it’s as if the whole world has actually seriously bought into the idea Henry could have magically broken his leg a week before making his debut.

I’m not counting my chickens that I’ve heard the last of it however. I’ve been on this coil long enough to know that sometimes certain things take time. Police investigations certainly take time. Often they can die a death at first before suddenly springing back into life due to an unforeseeable fluke of circumstance.

Media investigations can also take time. Reporters don’t necessarily print what they know straight away. Sometimes they’ll sneak around behind your back for weeks, even months. They’ll collate information like magpies, right up until the moment they feel they’ve learnt everything there is to know. Then they’ll strike.

Unless of course they feel the timing isn’t right. A savvy tabloid writer may elect to keep details of a good scandal back for when he knows the revelation will have its maximum impact. For example, if you somehow managed to acquire secret pictures of Simon Cowell bonking a rent boy, much better to publish them during X-Factor season than when Cowell isn’t on the telly much. In my profession, I suppose peak embarrassment time would be just before a big match near the end of the season.

I also have to remain very wary of Erica and her cohorts upstairs. Just because I haven’t heard anything in the first twenty four hours, it doesn’t mean that I won’t. They could be waiting until Monday, or until after they’ve had a private meeting to discuss whether they think I was involved or not (Blondie would surely automatically vote against me).

For the time being I just have to try and put it to the back of my mind and get on with tonight’s Live Bunny match against Salisbury. Why this round of matches has to be on a Friday night I will never know. We’re not even on TV for this one. The selected game is Rushden versus York. All the quarter finals are tonight with the rearranged games for teams missing out on tomorrow's league programme taking place this forthcoming midweek.

[ScottleeSV]

15/01/10, Live Bunny Cup Quarter Final

Luton Town v Salisbury City

GK – Dean Brill (84 apps, 0 goals)

DL – Charlie Daniels (29 apps, 3 goals)

DR – Claude Gnakpa (78 apps, 2 goals)

DC – Tony James (32 apps, 2 goals)

DC – George Pilkington (78 apps, 3 goals)

DMC – Kevin Nicholls (50 apps, 14 goals)

MC – Matthew Gill (30 apps, 1 goal)

ML – Clint Easton (13 apps, 0 goals)

MR – Michael Taylor (22 apps, 0 goals)

FC – Michael Bridges (21 apps, 10 goals)

FC – Danny Cadamateri (22 apps, 7 goals)

Once again for an early round cup tie the crowd was pants. There weren’t even any away fans for this one, at least none that I could see. In fact it just goes to show how little I value The Live Bunny Cup that I would instinctively refer to its quarter final stage as early round. I’ll probably feel the same way about the semi final. The final, if we get there, might just achieve quite important round status in the diary. We’ll see.

I made three changes from the team which made a meal of beating Stalybridge. The big one was dropping Keane. Seeing as it was only the Live Bunny, I figured it would look good to the rest of the world if the midfielder took the night off because he was overwrought with guilt. Keane hates missing matches more than any other player, so I was slightly surprised when he agreed so readily. This tells me he either has only a minimal interest in The Live Bunny or he’s secretly just as worried about the implications of yesterday’s events as I am.

The second and third changes were for rest purposes. If we’re going to be serious about chasing the treble (or even the double), the team are going to have to make their bodies last fifty five maybe even sixty matches. If I think I can get away with resting one or two people along the way for matches I think we can win anyway, I’ll do it. As far as tonight is concerned, I doubt even Erica would have a hissy fit if our Live Bunny participation came to an end.

Anyway, the changes; the first was Bowditch for Cadamateri. The second was Byrne for Easton, with Daniels of course switching to left back. After informing the players of this and also going over one or two tactical nuances, I began my closing words.

“We all remember what happened away to Salisbury earlier in the season. Use that as your motivation for tonight. I know it’s only The Live Bunny but a win tonight should give us a clear psychological advantage for when we next play them in the league. What do you all say?”

Cue an awkward silence. Brian though had the solution.

“Let’s win one for Henry, eh?”

“Yeah for Henry!” Nicholls shouted.

“For Henry!” everyone else reciprocated.

Then Nicholls got up and began to lead them out. I felt awkward the team apparently using Henry as their motivation. Yes, okay, part of that feeling probably stems from my inner guilt on the subject. However, it’s not just that. Ninety percent of the squad did nothing but poke fun at Henry before the leg break. Now they’re talking him up like some kind of long lost friend. It just seems a bit patronising and false to me.

Anyway, the Whites began the brightest, passing the ball around confidently. They didn’t create anything, mind. One or two crosses into the leaping Brill, nothing too scary. First proper chance went to us. It came in the 10th minute and involved a neat little exchange featuring Keane’s replacement, Matthew Gill. The returning midfielder swapped a one-two with Nicholls before launching one from outside the area. It was heading straight under the crossbar but keeper Parkinson tipped it over.

This proved our wake-up moment. We played a lot better after that, and what supporters had paid their money on the turnstiles took part in some much needed clapping and all-round general encouragement. 18 minutes in and the lively Cadamateri (a man with a point to prove, it seemed) ignored his strike partner Bridges and attempted to go himself from twenty five yards out. Alas, Parkinson met Cadamteri’s accurately curled twenty-yarder in kind, tipping it around for another corner.

Not long after that, Turk fed Sinclair for Salisbury. It was four against two here because Gnakpa had drifted too far forward and Daniels seemed to have forgotten he was playing left back. Never the less, Sinclair was careless. If he’d looked right he might have put the dangerous Feeney through on goal from an angle. As it was he went left to Sandell, and the pass was overhit.

Sandell though stayed calm and kept the ball in near the touchline. Then he took it forwards. Easton slid in to make the tackle, but, oh dear, too slow. Sandell danced over him and now the danger levels were flashing bright red again. Sandell cut inside near the by-line and at least three Salisbury shirts were sprinting into the area here. The ball across was waist high and missed everyone, including the covering Tony James. Lucky escape.

I suppose the depressing thing for the visitors was the way they’d got into a good position for the first time in the match and still not achieved a shot on target. The depressing thing for me was this match already having the early telltale signs of 0-0 and possible extra time. I’d already gone through that in this competition at Grays; I didn’t want to go through it again.

It pains me to say it, but Keane’s snap in the tackle was being sorely missed. Nicholls is a terrier in his own right, sure. However when playing together their combined intimidation factor can suddenly liven up any occasion, especially when they tag-team someone in the centre circle. Anyway, the rest of the half was one long yawn. Easton rasped one just wide from thirty yards in the 42nd minute but that was as good as got during the first half’s second segment.

[ScottleeSV]

“Okay, it’s slow, it’s uninspired, but it’s still nil-nil, so not the end of the world. I want better in the second half though. This is a match we should win, and we’ve got a more than good enough team out there to do that. What happened to the whole pledge about doing this for Henry anyway? If certainly doesn’t look like you’re trying to win one for him out there, or was that just all talk?”

“I think we might be too much still in the depression stage” said Taylor.

“Excuse me?”

“What I mean is, after you’ve experienced a bad event, or you get bad news, you have stages of recovery don’t you? I think one of them is denial, another one - anger, and so on. I think we’re all in the depression stage at the moment. I don’t think we’ve reached the take it out on someone stage yet”.

“What a load of cobblers” I replied.

“There isn’t a take it out on someone stage” Tony James inputted.

“Enough!” I cried. “Enough of the stages! Henry has broken his leg, he’s not died! Regardless, you’re professional footballers! You shouldn’t need to be in any particular stage of whatever to be motivated into playing properly. Now get out there and try harder!”

If you’ve already sneaked a look at the final score, you might assume we burst out of the traps quickly in the second half. This wasn’t actually the case. For the first seven minutes we were just as drab as we were in the first period. Then, out of nothing, a mistake from Salisbury’s right back. What he did was assume Nicholls’ mishit long ball was going out for a goal kick. Easton made no such mistake and just managed to keep it in.

The stand-in left midfielder looked up and saw Bridges surging into the area. The cross was at head height but the arriving striker could only get a glancing touch on it with his chin. Not to worry; Cadamateri was sliding in unmarked at the back post. Anticipating the destination of the deflected cross better than anyone, the returning forward passed the ball right footed into the roof of the net. Then he wheeled away to celebrate.

It got better just two minutes later. Frustrated at conceding, Sangere went in late on Gill just inside the Salisbury half. It was hardly in the Keane league of challenges but it was a bookable offence. It also just happened to be the player’s second such offence of the evening. Off the field he trudged then. As he did, catcalling and cheers became the order of the day, the crowd’s appetite for Live Bunny action having just risen considerably.

The odds of our making the semi finals were now heavily weighted in our favour. Just to keep things fresh I threw Spencer on for his first action since rejoining from Everton, Bridges the player making way. I also put Niven on for Gill. It was very like for like. Having not lost a home game against Blue Square opposition all season, there wasn’t much point straying from the 4.4.2 blueprint.

Salisbury coped with going a goal and a man down by trying to play keep ball. I guess they didn’t want things to go from bad to worse before they could regroup. The strategy backfired in the 63rd minute though when Parkinson got caught doing a Higuita too far up the field. He just about managed to scrape the ball away from Spencer’s legs before absolute and total damage could be achieved, but the ball went straight to Nicholls.

The Skip chipped one towards the empty goal from forty yards out. For some reason he put backspin on it, so when it landed just after the penalty spot, the wait to see if it would go in seemed to take forever. It didn’t go in though. After three bounces, the third being no more than the tiniest of bobbles, the ball went a foot wide and Parkinson’s blunder had thus gone unpunished.

One thing I’ve always noticed ten man teams do is smack more long balls into the opposition penalty area than they normally would. I think this is because subconsciously they assume that passing the ball around the opposition is no longer a viable option. Weirdly enough however, if you pump enough balls into the other side’s box, sooner or later you’ll get a break. It must encourage some managers to start encouraging the deep cross mentality even when it’s eleven versus eleven.

On 71 minutes, Tolley floated a high up and under into our box and Brill stayed at home. Several heads attacked the ball. The one that got the most purchase on it was substitute Craddock. He it was who seemed to glance the ball sideways, probably unintentionally, in the direction of Griffin. The Whites player had space to shoot here but only if he took on the volley at waist height. He did. He missed. Still, a striker in form would have got over the top of that sufficiently enough to score.

Bowditch came on for the tiring Taylor in the final ten minutes with Cadamateri switching to right wing. Salisbury continued to launch balls into the area but they were becoming more infrequent now as tiredness set in and our lot played a good possession game with the extra space. 84 minutes and a chance for Nicholls (again!). I guess that’s one of the reasons why he’s our star midfielder, because he scores goals.

This time he hit the post from eighteen yards, the shot having been set up by that man Cadamateri. The strike hit neither the inside nor the outside of the stick, bouncing in a perfectly straight line back in the direction of Nicholls again. This time Dennehy whipped it off his toe to clear. When Easton accepted a breakaway hoof from James two minutes later and ballooned comically over the top, it would prove our final shot of the night.

The final whistle went with Salisbury attacking down near the far corner flag. Despite putting in a fairly restricted performance, we’ve gone through by a single goal for the second time in a week. It’s not exactly fluidity on a pre-Rushden level, but it’s a start. Oh, and I’ve just reached the first cup semi final of my career.

--------------

FINAL SCORE (att - 2011)

Luton Town 1 (Cadamateri 53)

Salisbury City 0 (Sangere s/o 55)

--------------

(other quarter final results)

Rushden 1-0 York

Macclesfield 2-4 Histon

Forest Green 2-0 Team Bath

[ScottleeSV]

18/01/10 - The power of three

I was summoned to the boardroom this morning. I had a feeling that might happen before any serious dust gathered on Henry’s sick note. The manner in which I was called forward wasn’t exactly polite either.

First of all someone upstairs phoned Brenda and asked if I was in the office. She said yes. So then whoever it was told her to tell me to go up to the boardroom straight away. When Brenda at this point naturally offered to put the call through to my desk so they could ask me in person, they declined and reiterated the initial instruction – Tell James to come straight up to the boardroom. The voice was male but Brenda didn’t recognise it.

I left the communal offices straight away but stopped off in the toilet to splash some water on my face. This was potentially going to be a very nervy meeting. I wanted to gather my composure. Just as I’d finished using the hand dryer, one of the toilet cubicles began to flush and out through the door came Bob Wharton.

“Ah James” he said cheerfully, beginning to wash his hands. “Guess who was in my office half an hour ago”.

“The police?”

“No, the Spiritseekers team. They were back here to tell us about their findings from the other week. Well, to tell me, anyway. It’s amazing you know, some of the stuff they were able to show me on their little computer thingamabobs. I don’t know whether or not to believe it, but, well, different folk will have different opinions, I guess”.

“Yeah I guess”.

On any other day I would have intrigued to know more about the evidence Carl and his cronies had supposedly captured. However I was probably already late for the meeting.

I didn’t knock before entering the boardroom. If they can be rude so can I. The last time I’d been up here for a meeting like this, the one concerning The Royal Hotel incident, there had been five of the seven directors present. Today there was only three. Disappointingly, neither Dilic nor Paul Leonard were among the trio; those two I would always have faith in to be fair with me. All the others are unknown quantities, except for Erica who has seemed to dislike me ever since our initial wage budget tussles of early last season.

Another director I’m fairly sure dislikes me is a man names Daniel Travers. He was slightly hostile during that Royal Hotel meeting of four months ago. Seeing him again now, plonked between Erica and Simon Keast, made me suspect he had been the one to call Brenda. Incidentally he looks a little bit like the actor Phillip Seymour Hoffman.

A chair had been set up for me in front of this mini committee. I took it now and tried to look confident.

“Morning. To what do I owe the – “

“You can cut the crap” Travers blurted. “I want to know what’s happened to our royal, and more to the point, I want to know what YOU had to do with it”.

‘This is two meetings out of two. Obviously he’s hostile by nature’.

“I had nothing to do with it. I’ll tell you one thing though; this accident probably wasn’t a coincidence”.

“What do you mean?” Simon asked calmly. He was a wiry man. Spoke in a Yorkshire accent. I haven’t heard one of those in a while.

“Well, Henry isn’t very fleet of foot. He doesn’t know how to tackle and he’s not very agile when it comes to avoiding tackles. In fact if I had to put money on who out of everyone in the squad would have suffered such a fate this week, I would have put it on Henry”.

“Well, you know, just MAYBE I would like to buy that” the big shot’s big mouth continued. “But we had Keith Keane in here before you”.

“You did?”

“Yeah. Oh, don’t get me wrong, he denied it was anything but an accident, all the expected hooey. There was something there though. There was something in his demeanour. You spotted it didn’t you, Simon?”

“Yeah” said the other man. “I couldn’t put my finger on it, but was there something”.

“Something like what?” I asked with a bit of a slow sneer.

My question induced a moment’s silence. Travers, from having been leaning forwards on his chair now leaned back to be level with the others.

“I don’t know” he said more calmly. “Something. Let’s just say Mr Keane is a much better footballer than he is actor”.

“Well this is a very nice waste of my time, gentlemen” I announced without getting up. “Will there be anything else today?”

“HEY NOW YOU – “

The explosion from his mouth (Travers’ mouth) startled me, even though I could have predicted it in the wake of my cheek. Erica curtailed his outburst by putting a swift hand on his arm. Incidentally, I’d found her silence up to this point almost as unnerving as Travers’ bitchiness.

‘David Cameron. He looks like a cross between Phillip Seymour Hoffman and David Cameron’.

“Daniel” she said, breaking her duck for the day. “I don’t think we’re going to get anything out of him today. Even if anything untoward has happened here, there’s no way of proving it. Might I suggest we keep an open mind but postpone any further investigation for the time being? I for one have got too much work to do to be led around in circles by him all morning".

“Yes I agree” Simon agreed. “What James says about Henry not being agile in the tackle possibly has some merit too”.

“Fine!” Travers spat. “Go on, off you go, Mr James Mr Martin, whatever”.

Result! Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, I quickly got up and headed for the door. Just as I had my hand on the knob, my eyes strayed to Erica. She was looking at me – and she had a thin little smile on her face.

I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to work out what the meaning of that smile was. I didn’t think it meant she’d suddenly developed the hots for me, that’s for sure.

[ScottleeSV]

19/01/10 - Contract status

“So how good was he then, James?” Andy Branston asked.

“A bit raw but definitely promising” I lied. “In all honesty though, before he got injured it was far too early to tell how good he might have turned out. I guess we’ll have to wait until after his recovery now”.

“What position did he play?”

“Err, all over. He was very versatile at what he did was Henry”.

Naturally the cork had come off the bottle as far as our young royal was concerned. You can’t hide a broken legged royal family member for too long. Some busybody hack will always stumble across the story eventually and figure it’s worth attention. What surprises me is, the media were aware weeks ago of Rhodes-Chatto and who he was; they just didn’t seem to find it that interesting. Now he’s suddenly got a broken leg though, different matter altogether.

“Victoria Thornton, The Mirror. It’s highly unusual for a player at this level of the game to be signed straight from the Sunday leagues. No pun intended here but was Henry given a leg up in light of the unusual marketing benefits he could bring to the club?”

“Absolutely not. I didn’t oversee this particularly signing personally but there’s no way this club would ever sign someone it didn’t feel was capable of performing an important role for the first team. It’s a very professional set-up at Luton. That’s why I like it here”.

“Woah!” piped Branston. “Can we read into that statement you don’t personally have control over all the signings?”

“Not at all. Make no mistake, I DO have control over ALL the signings. Rhodes-Chatto however was a youth signing. Such are the demands of my running the first team, it’s often common practice for me to leave the acquisition of youth players to either my assistant manager or the various coaches we have. Then, once they’re at the club and in training, that’s when I’ll run my eye over them”.

“So these youth players, when they first come in, am I right in thinking they’ll begin on special youth contracts?”

“That’s right”.

“Then after that, if you like them and want to keep them, the best ones will graduate to normal full time contracts. Is that how it works?”

“Yeah that’s about right”.

“The thing is though, James, from what I gathered from him when we spoke in the hospital yesterday, Rhodes-Chatto doesn’t have a youth contract. He’s gone straight to a full time one”.

‘Oh God’

“I find this strange” Branston continued. “Not least because you just said Rhodes-Chatto was brought in by persons other than you because he’s a youth player. How can he be considered only a youth player though if he’s got a full time contract?”

The permanently bald reporter leaned back and folded his arms, waiting for his answer. The simple fact was however I didn’t have one. To buy myself a few seconds I picked up my glass of water and took the slowest sip humanly possible. I think I drained half the glass that way actually. Then I dried my lips with a napkin and rubbed my nose.

“James?”

“Errr yeah, well. Sorry what was the question again?”

“You said Rhodes-Chatto was a player brought in by employees at the club other than yourself because he’s a youth player” he reiterated irritably. “My question is; how can he be a considered a youth player if he was given a full time contract?”

“That’s a good question. Now that I think about it, I think we did make an exception in Henry’s case when it came to allocating him a contract. My memory is a little hazy but I think there was some sort of mitigating circumstance, maybe a rival interested party we had to compete against or something. It’s very hazy to be honest. I’ve been very pre-occupied lately what will all the Live Bunny preparations and what-have-you”.

Andy shook his head and gestured with his hand as if to say no more questions. If this had been a court of law though, and Andy a lawyer, I think I would have been torn apart from that moment onwards. As it was, the subject uncomfortably moved onto Keith and whether or not there could have been more to his tackle on Henry than met the eye.

By the end of what was a very gruelling session of Q & A, I was mentally shot. Light relief quickly came however in the form of Sir Brian Fox, assistant manager and now part time driving instructor.

“Fancy a quick pint this afternoon?” I asked him as we stepped into the corridor. “We haven’t had one in a while, and I could really do with one after that”.

“Actually I’ll take a rain-check. I’ve agreed to give Nicky a driving lesson this afternoon”.

“Really? I didn’t know you two ever spoke”.

“We had a quick chat just before the five a side practice last week funnily enough. Anyway, we got talking about driving and she says she could really do with some lessons before her real lessons kick in. So I threw my hat in the ring, what the hell. I could do with the practice to tell you the truth for when my daughters are old enough to mine the wells of my expertise. Oh, Nicky did say you gave her a lesson before Christmas but that you’ve been really busy ever since”.

If Brian had been a fly on the windshield during that lesson before Christmas, he might have had a better idea as to exactly why I’d been busy ever since. Nicky might be a good friend of mine but I just don’t have the stomach to give her anymore amateur tuition. She’s like the car driving version of Paulo Wanchop; you just don’t know which direction she’s going in next.

“Well have a good time” I said, turning away.

“Will do. Oh! Wait!” he cried, spinning around (as best a big boned man can). He had his car keys out in his hand ready now. “Just so I know; how good is she so far?”

I turned around too and did that blowy vibrating thing people do with their lips, usually when they’re briefly thinking something over.

“Oh she’s very good, from what I can remember. I certainly don’t recall doing too much actual instructing anyway. I think I spent most of the afternoon reading a football magazine in the passenger seat. It was a nice leisurely drive actually”.

“Really?”

“Yeah. In fact, whisper it quietly, but I think she’s ready for the motorway”.

“Excellent. The motorway it is then” he said, lobbing his keys a foot in the air before swiftly grabbing them again. “The M1 should do it”.

“Yeah the M1” I grinned, nodding in agreement.

“Cheerio then”.

“Bye”.

And so we parted. I was chuckling so much after he went I had to go and do that water-on-face thing in the toilet.

[tenthreeleader]

Example 1A in "How Not To Handle The Press". Nicely written, and another fine post from you. This continues to be a very enjoyable read, getting more impressive all the time.

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks, Tenthree!

-----------

19/01/10 - The Chelsea Supporters Club Luton Branch

Later that evening I made good on my Christmas promise to take Luke to a Chelsea game; the Blues were at home to Everton in a midweek Premiership fixture. Prior to last week I’d been dreading the trip to Stamford Bridge. Top flight football usually bores me senseless. After all the stresses of the Henry business however, I now viewed this excursion as a strangely welcome break from normality.

Chantelle though hadn’t read the script. When I turned up at her place around teatime to pick Luke up, four of his mates from school were there too. Furthermore they were all expecting to tag along with him. On my dime! They’d even brought Chelsea replica shirts and scarves along.

“What the hell’s this?” I asked my sullen faced girlfriend. She had her dressing gown on and was apparently down with a cold.

“He’s decided he wants his school friends to go with him. Why? It’s not a big deal is it? Kids get in a lot cheaper than adults, don’t they?”

“Yes they do. In fact, at Luton or Croydon Athletic the cost of paying four extra kids in wouldn’t accumulate to very much. At Chelsea though it’s probably fifty pounds an adult and thirty pounds a kid!”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know. Can you just go along with it this time though? He’d be well gutted if I told him they couldn’t come now, and his mates wouldn’t be happy either”.

“It’s not just that! How am I going to get six of us into my car? It’s against the law to have four kids on the back seat”.

A shrug of the shoulders told me she hadn’t thought that one through either. In the end I quickly whipped off down to Brian’s house and pleaded to borrow his huge people carrier for the night. This wasn’t as easy as it sounds; Brian was sporting a temporary neck brace thanks to Nicky colliding with a hot dog stall just outside Dunstable the previous day.

“Haven’t you done enough damage to my car this week?” he ranted on his front door step. “Don’t you think putting five kids in the back of it is only going to make things worse? I’m not just talking about the car either. I’m talking about our friendship!”

“Nicky said the actual damage to the car wasn’t too bad”.

“Not too bad?! Come here”.

One hand supporting his neck, Brian hobbled around to the garage in his slippers and pointed at the lower half of the people carrier. There was a huge indent which stretched about a yard and a half.

“Oh” I said. “That’s a nasty one”.

“Damn right it’s a nasty one!”

“How come you took her out in the family car anyway? Why not the Fiesta?”

“You said she was really good! I thought the people carrier would be more of a challenge for her! The best part is, she walks out the damn car without even a scrape. But not muggins here, no”.

I glanced back and forth between the neck brace and the indent on the car and felt a wave of guilt. I’d only claimed Nicky was competent for a laugh. No way had I expected a crash (however minor). She hadn’t crashed when I was with her.

On reflection, my decision-making in general has been awful recently. First that stupid coming together with Keith and now this. What’s wrong with me? I am losing the plot or have I just been unlucky? With the Henry thing I can still - despite the shame I feel - make a case for having been backed into an inescapable corner. Brian’s accident though I could have avoided. It was the wrong joke to make at the wrong time.

“So I take it I can’t borrow it then?”

“You can borrow it, but you fix the damage on it before you bring it back. Until then I keep your car here. That’s the deal”.

“Okay, deal. Cheers”.

‘Great, more costs. As if the extra Chelsea tickets weren’t bad enough’.

The kids were climbing off the walls by the time I got back to Chantelle’s. They were worried the delay would make them miss kick-off. Hurriedly then I shunted everyone into the back of the people carrier and got going.

Just to annoy me, two of the kids did that thing where you trap your football scarf in the car door so everyone who passes you can see what team you support. Then once we were on the motorway the boredom of the journey induced them into a singsong.

“CHELSEA! CHELSEA! CHELSEEEEEEA! CHELSEA! CHELSEA! CHELSEEEEEEA!”

“Jesus, why can’t you kids just support Luton?” I groaned. “I know they’re low down the leagues but Luton’s your hometown team. You’re supposed to get behind your hometown team”.

Laughter from behind me. Kiddie laughter.

“Luton are rubbish” said a squeaky voice.

“Yeah” agreed Luke.

“Crap” said somebody else.

“You know what?” I asked them. “I really hope Everton win tonight. I really do”.

They didn’t though. Were they seriously ever going to? Of course not. It was close until just after half time, but then Drogba opened the scoring and Brazilian defender Alex sealed the win twenty minutes from the end. Luke and Co went ape over both goals and just generally had themselves a ball. They even coaxed me into buying programmes and burgers for everyone. Yes you heard that right, one programme per child.

On the way home I tried to put Radio Five on but it was drowned out by the racket from behind.

“WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT, SON! AND GO GET YOUR FATHER’S GUN, AND SHOOT ALL THE ARSENAL SCUM, SHOOT THE ARSENAL SCUM!”

For one reason or another it was almost midnight when we got back into Luton. Yes, LUTON, that huge town that has it’s very own football team. By the time I’d driven all the kids home it was almost 1am! With tired limbs I put Luke to bed and then flopped into Chantelle’s bedroom. She wasn’t awake and I wouldn’t have been much use to her even if she had been.

‘Never again’.

[salkster2102]

Do not let James Lwrie take a penalty

[ScottleeSV]

Lawrie has gone back to Vale now that Spencer has returned. I don't think it was mentioned in the diary though.

That Buxton/Telford video was entertaining. Always good to see a cup upset

----------------

20/01/10 - The Dilemma Game

Over time I’ve become accustomed to working in the communal offices without letting background conversations disturb me. Sometimes though I’ll overhear something I simply have to find out more about. Today that something originated from Nicky’s mouth.

“I’ve made my decision” she said calmly. “Decapitate me. I’ll take decapitation”.

“What?!” I interrupted. “Caroline, you’re not dragging her into one of those Dungeons and Dragons type games are you?”

“No!” she laughed.

“We’re playing The Dilemma Game” Darren explained. “Do you not want to play?”

“How about we just play that game called The Work Game instead, you know, where we see who can work the hardest over an eight hour period?”

“Everyone’s a bit light on work at the minute. Anyway, it’s an ace game. Come on. Just for five minutes”.

I supposed five minutes couldn’t hurt. Most of my preparation for tonight’s home game against Histon was already done.

“Go on then, how do you play?” I asked, putting my pen down.

“It’s simple. One person gives everyone else a dilemma. It can be a good type of dilemma or the bad kind. Then you simply pick one option or the other”.

“Okay, what was that one Nicky was answering?”

“Oh you really don’t want to know” said Brenda, half watching half working.

“Option number one is, your head is dangling out the window of a train going at full speed. Coming the other way on the next track is another train. You’re going to get decapitated. Option number two is, you’ve been put in an enclosed room with two really hungry lions. You’re going to get eaten alive. Which do you choose?”

“If my head’s dangling out of the window of the train, why can’t I just pull it back in again?”

“Because the world’s strongest man is holding you in place” Caroline answered, trying to suppress a giggle. “Don’t look at me like that! Darren was the one who inserted that little detail!”

“I’ll pick decapitation then like Nicky. At least that’s quick. Getting eaten alive will take ages”.

“Yeah I’m picking that one too”.

“Want a go at setting one, James?” – Darren.

“Okay, let me think a minute”.

Coming up with something proved surprisingly difficult, especially with four people looking at me expecting me to be quick about it. I wanted to find a situation where both options would be either equally bad or equally good. I didn’t want the answer to be obvious like Darren’s decapitation thing. In the end I settled for a variation on the same theme.

“Okay, here’s the dilemma. Option one; you get dropped in a random place in the Atlantic Ocean. Option two; you get dropped in a random place in the Sahara Desert. With both options, you’re fully clothed and you’ve got a small bag containing a limited supply of food and water. No phone though. Which fate do you choose?"

Immediately they all put their thinking caps on. Even Brenda seemed to be pondering away. Nicky was sucking the end of her pencil, gazing at the ceiling. Caroline and Darren were both leaning on their knuckles.

“The desert” said Brenda. “If you’re in the desert, you’ll at least have the chance to walk for a bit and possibly bump into some other people. In the ocean you’re just going to sink after five minutes”.

“Not if you’re a good swimmer like me” Darren replied. “Theoretically you can stay afloat for ages in the water, hours even. During that team a ship might pass by and save you”.

“Do you know how big the Atlantic Ocean is, Darren? The odds of a ship passing by the exact spot you happen to be treading water in is extremely small”.

“At least there IS a chance though. As big as it is, the Atlantic Ocean will almost certainly have crisscrossing shipping lanes. Most of the Sahara Desert never gets used by anybody. It's just one big barren landscape. In the middle of that place you would have ZERO chance of anyone passing you by”.

“Darren, even if a ship was within a hundred yards of you in the ocean, it wouldn’t see you. In those choppy waters it would be almost impossible to get spotted. In a still lake you might get spotted but not among the huge waves of the sea. And what about the danger from sharks? There aren’t any sharks in the desert”.

“Do you know how many people actually die from shark attacks per year? About two. Anyway, it might not be a ship that comes by. It might be something smaller, like a rowing boat or something”.

Cue laughter from around the room. It had been a nice equal debate for a while but now Darren’s side of the argument seemed to have lost some credibility.

“A rowing boat?” Caroline chuckled. “How many rowing boats go out into the middle of the Atlantic?”

“Well maybe not a rowing boat exactly. I just meant something smaller than a big ship, something that could spot someone in the water. Anyway, James said the drop-off point would be somewhere in the ocean that was random. It wouldn’t necessarily be out in the middle where only the biggest vessels go”.

“Well I’d pick the ocean” said Nicky. “I’d ride back to shore on a dolphin. I’ve always wanted to do that”.

“Ah-ha!” Darren exclaimed. “The Nickster’s in with the Darrenster. That’s two plays one for the ocean!”

Darren stretched his hand over the monitor for a high hive and Nicky reciprocated. His joy however was short-lived. Caroline made sure of that.

“Well I’m going for the desert with Brenda” she decided.

“Looks like the deciding vote’s with you, James” – dolphin girl.

“Isn’t it always?” I pondered out loud.

The four of them looked at me now from their various seats around the room, patiently waiting for my answer. I thought things over for about thirty seconds and then spat it out.

“Desert”.

“Yes!” cried Caroline.

“And THERE we go” said Brenda with a smile.

Darren pursed his lips and looked glum. Nicky didn’t seem too bothered, mind.

‘That was much more fun than a real dilemma’ I mused, returning to my work. Sometimes, when you've had a rough time of things, it can be so nice to just relax amongst friends.

“Okay, I’ve got another one” said Darren out of the blue, twenty minutes later. “Option one; there’s an elephant stampede, and you’ve got a five minute head start - ”

[ScottleeSV]

20/01/10, League Match 27

Luton Town v Histon

GK – Dean Brill (85 apps, 0 goals)

DL – Richie Byrne (23 apps, 1 goal)

DR – Claude Gnakpa (79 apps, 2 goals)

DC – George Pilkington (79 apps, 3 goals)

DC – Tony James (33 apps, 2 goals)

DMC – Kevin Nicholls (51 apps, 14 goals)

MC – Keith Keane (70 apps, 9 goals)

ML – Charlie Daniels (30 apps, 3 goals)

MR – Michael Taylor (23 apps, 0 goals)

FC – Danny Cadamateri (23 apps, 8 goals)

FC – Michael Bridges (22 apps, 10 goals)

The team was back to proper strength for this our first league game since the Rushden disaster. Keane returned for Gill and Byrne for Easton. My only slightly controversial decision was leaving Bowditch out in favour of the recently reacquainted Bridges/Cadamateri combination. By rights, and taking only the formbook into account, it should have been Bowditch and Cadamateri leading the line. Rest assured though Bridges is on borrowed time if he doesn’t start scoring again soon.

We started brightly enough, despite Daniels’ booking in the very first minute. By the time five minutes were on the clock we’d already had two shots. First Daniels swished one wide from twenty yards and then Cadamateri tried to continue where he’d left off in the previous game by unleashing a daisy cutter from the edge of the box. All the bobbling took the power off the shot however and goalkeeper Naisbett collected.

Histon managed a 1-1 draw against us back in September so they certainly didn’t come in fear. They play some good passing football for a team expected to be one of the lower lights. That said, there was a snap and a hunger about us early on tonight I hadn’t seen for quite some time. In hindsight we were probably more fortunate than I realised at the time to scrap those two 1-0 cup wins. It was always going to be tough to recover from a psychological blow like the one handed out by Garry Hill’s men.

Now though we looked something like our old selves. Nothing got past Nicholls and Keane in midfield during the first twenty minutes, and I mean nothing. After 22 minutes the former tried to chip one over the top and McSweeney headed out for a throw on the far side. Taylor threw to Gnakpa and Gnakpa passed it back to him. Then Taylor crossed. The ball was flicked on by Cadamateri straight into the path of Bridges.

It was a good chance to score this but the striker could only hit it on the half volley with a lunging left foot. He had to or the ball would evade him. Bridges timed the required motion reasonably well but not well enough, and the ball zoomed a foot wide with the goalie stranded. When it’s not going for you, it’s not going for you. Camamateri and Keane though playfully punched his shoulder and gave him some encouragement. That’s what I like to see.

On 25 minutes Daniels curled a free kick over the wall from just outside the box. It was so accurately aimed at the top corner, Naisbett could only keep it out by throwing himself into the post. Three men went for the rebound; Barker, Mitchell-King, and Bridges. Mitchell-King got there first and nodded away for a corner. When it was taken, Pilkington headed on and Nicholls narrowly missed heading in the header. Goal kick.

The Skip was looking superb in the centre so far, completing dictating the game. After 33 minutes he blocked yet another potential Histon breakaway before going on a slow dribble. Nobody dared tackle him and eventually he flicked a reverse ball over the top between Mitchell-King and Oyebanji. Swiftly onto the end of it was Cadamateri. He was clean through here, albeit without the ball fully under his control.

He didn’t need it fully under control. Spotting the keeper tear out of his goal, Cadders used the natural bounce of the ball to lift one over his head. The ball bounced once and then almost touched the roof of the net on its way in. Finally our dominance had reaped dividends. What’s more, the same player almost made it two just a minute later when his toe-end from a low Taylor cross bounced down into the ground and over with Naisbett again floundering.

The cold winter air had persuaded me to wear a hat, scarf, and gloves tonight. The effect was to make me look more like one of the fans than the manager. In the 42nd minute I felt like pulling that damn hat right down over my face. With practically their first serious attack of the match, Nightingale sidestepped Pilkington and the covering James had to bring him down. The free kick was thirty yards from goal.

McSweeney’s attempted low drive was pathetic. The trouble was it was so undercooked that Wright managed to swivel and get in a shot of his own as the ball whizzed towards him next to the wall. He caught it low and sweetly and the effect was to send Brill the wrong way as if caught out by a deflection. He almost saved it with his trailing leg but the ball went under said leg and suddenly the net was bulging.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, they almost scored again a minute later! Midson’s cross from the left narrowly evaded the head of a roaming Batt to go out for a throw on the far side. So then, 1-1 at the break despite the fact it was about 10-1 on shots. For the third game running at Kenilworth Road we were going to have to try and win after being only level at half time.

[ScottleeSV]

“I’ve not got much to say to you guys at the moment. You’re playing great. Keep it up and we’re bound to win. Okay, that’s all”.

Taking my gloves off and blowing my hands, I reached into my bag and pulled out the new novel I’ve been reading – Killing Floor by Lee Childs. The team-talk had taken about one minute if you included the walk in from the pitch. That left me fourteen minutes to read. Good stuff.

The start of the second half was remarkable. Bridges took the ball off Nightingale and carried it into enemy territory. Then he passed it backwards to Keane who hit a more progressive pass to Cadamateri first time. Cadders also went first time, side-footing one into the path of Bridges on the edge of the area. From here the striker wasted no time in attempting a chip. The ball went over the keeper’s head and the crowd rose to celebrate, except, the ball hit the underside of the bar.

Not to worry because Cadamateri was in the right place at the right time to head the ball into the empty net. We were back in front. The Histon manager was screaming and gesticulating at his players for undoing all their good work in getting back into the match. We deserved to be winning though. That fact was undeniable.

In the next ten minutes we threatened to put the game to bed. A corner was won in the 51st minute and Nicholls’ delivery caused mayhem amidst the red ranks. It was one of those where the ball falls into the middle of everyone and the penalty area turns into a giant pinball machine. Langston proved to be the key ‘flipper’ here, sliding a clearance off the line which went high into the air and far far away.

Histon won their first corner of the day after 55 minutes. Before it could be taken however the lights in the stadium went out. Pitch black. Everywhere. I don’t know why the majority of the home fans cheered because if we couldn’t get them back on I presumed the match would be voided. With us being 2-1 ahead that would not be a clever situation, irrespective of the fact we’d be lumbered with another fixture to arrange in what was already a clogged schedule for February, March, and April.

Luckily order was restored within about five minutes. An even bigger cheer went up when this happened. Histon were still to take their corner of course and when Simpson lofted it straight into the arms of Brill, the crowd cheered even harder. Provided we retained our lead to the end, I could already envisage the newspaper headlines the following day – Lights go out on Histon’s playoff bid.

Just after the hour Charlie Daniels went on one of his lung-bursting runs down the left. He quickly left Oyenbanji for dead and then Mitchell-King too. Unfortunately he over-ran his touch past the latter and was forced to hit a cross on the run to prevent a goal kick. Only Bridges was in the area and remarkably it was he who got on the end of it. The ball cannoned off his knee at great speed and went about a yard wide and a yard high. That was a difficult one.

In the 64nd minute we were suddenly caught cold when the visitors broke away from one of OUR corner kicks. It was Murray who did all the work, thrusting forwards down the right with Luton defenders scampering back for all they were worth. Murray slid in a cross towards Nightingale who took one touch to control the ball with only Brill to beat. The striker then slid the ball under the keeper’s body and a foot wide of the post. Golden opportunity gone begging.

I delayed making any substitutions until I was satisfied we’d gone sufficiently off the boil to warrant them. This I judged to be in the 73rd minute or around about. Off came Keane for Niven and James for McCracken. It was all like for like. Keane didn’t much like being subbed but then does he ever?

Derek Niven is a popular little scrapper amongst the supporters and he proved his mettle on 76 minutes by somehow emerging with the ball when it was two on one against. The ref could have blown for a free kick against Histon but instead gave the advantage. Niven slipped it right to Nicholls and The Skip decided this was his moment to sow up the win. From twenty yards out he smashed in a high shot which swerved and dipped and sadly went about a millimetre over the top. Naisbett would have struggled to save that.

With ten minutes I left I risked my final substitution, Bowditch for Bridges. Like Niven before him Bowditch made a key contribution not long after appearing. As Histon pushed on looking for a late equaliser, more and more space was becoming available in the forward channels. Niven exploited this extra space by sending Bowditch away almost on a whim. The striker took two heavy touches with his right foot before setting himself up to finish with his left. Sadly he screwed it wide.

“We always do it the hard way don’t we?” I asked Brian. “Always one goal in it and no more”.

“You’d still take it before kick-off”.

“True”.

In contradiction to my spoken words, I felt quite comfortable given the score. Histon weren’t threatening much bar the odd high cross into the box. I reckoned it was going to take a fluke for them to thwart us late on. Meanwhile, a Naisbett double save from Nicholls and Daniels overshadowed the customary late reading out of the attendance and the home team man of the match.

There were two minutes of stoppage time and bizarrely at least one of those minutes were soaked up by a discussion between Taylor and the referee. The match ended with Nicholls thinking about a shot but then dismissing the idea and dribbling back towards his own halfway line. Clearly shattered by the demands of trying to live with a professional side for ninety minutes, nobody went after The Skip to try and get the ball off him. The ref blew soon after.

-----------------

FINAL SCORE (att - 4343)

Luton Town 2 (Cadamateri 33, 46)

Histon 1 (Wright 42)

-----------------

(other results - 16/01/10)

Crawley 2-0 Burton

Ebbsfleet 1-3 Stevenage

Grays 3-2 AFC Wimbledon

Mansfield 2-0 Oxford

Northwich 1-0 Woking

St Albans 0-1 Tamworth

(tonight)

Cambridge 1-1 Forest Green

Kidderminster 2-0 Rushden

Salisbury 1-1 Weymouth

York 1-0 Droylsden

Macclesfield 2-0 Kettering

----------------------

[font=Courier New][size=2]| Pos   | Inf   | Team          |       | Pld   | Won   | Drn   | Lst   | For   | Ag    | G.D.  | Pts   | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 1st   |       | Luton         |       | 27    | 19    | 5     | 3     | 59    | 28    | +31   | 62    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 2nd   |       | Rushden       |       | 27    | 19    | 4     | 4     | 60    | 25    | +35   | 61    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 3rd   |       | Grays         |       | 27    | 16    | 7     | 4     | 60    | 28    | +32   | 55    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 4th   |       | York          |       | 27    | 16    | 5     | 6     | 49    | 32    | +17   | 53    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 5th   |       | Salisbury     |       | 27    | 12    | 11    | 4     | 48    | 32    | +16   | 47    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 6th   |       | Stevenage     |       | 27    | 12    | 10    | 5     | 53    | 44    | +9    | 46    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 7th   |       | Oxford        |       | 27    | 13    | 5     | 9     | 56    | 36    | +20   | 44    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 8th   |       | Weymouth      |       | 27    | 11    | 10    | 6     | 46    | 33    | +13   | 43    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 9th   |       | Crawley       |       | 27    | 13    | 4     | 10    | 47    | 44    | +3    | 43    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 10th  |       | Histon        |       | 27    | 11    | 9     | 7     | 45    | 35    | +10   | 42    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 11th  |       | Forest Green  |       | 27    | 11    | 8     | 8     | 35    | 31    | +4    | 41    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 12th  |       | Mansfield     |       | 27    | 10    | 9     | 8     | 39    | 44    | -5    | 39    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 13th  |       | Cambridge     |       | 27    | 10    | 8     | 9     | 37    | 35    | +2    | 38    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 14th  |       | AFC Wimbledon |       | 27    | 11    | 3     | 13    | 46    | 47    | -1    | 36    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 15th  |       | Burton        |       | 27    | 9     | 7     | 11    | 34    | 42    | -8    | 34    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 16th  |       | Kidderminster |       | 27    | 9     | 6     | 12    | 37    | 45    | -8    | 33    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 17th  |       | Woking        |       | 27    | 7     | 8     | 12    | 23    | 30    | -7    | 29    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 18th  |       | Macclesfield  |       | 27    | 7     | 6     | 14    | 30    | 47    | -17   | 27    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 19th  |       | Ebbsfleet     |       | 27    | 6     | 7     | 14    | 25    | 43    | -18   | 25    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 20th  |       | Kettering     |       | 27    | 5     | 8     | 14    | 33    | 47    | -14   | 23    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 21st  |       | Tamworth      |       | 27    | 5     | 4     | 18    | 25    | 58    | -33   | 19    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 22nd  |       | Northwich     |       | 27    | 4     | 7     | 16    | 24    | 52    | -28   | 19    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 23rd  |       | St Albans     |       | 27    | 4     | 5     | 18    | 25    | 59    | -34   | 17    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 24th  |       | Droylsden     |       | 27    | 4     | 4     | 19    | 32    | 61    | -29   | 16    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------|[/size] [/font]

[ScottleeSV]

21/01/10 - Leg up

I’m never in the best of moods when at Luton and Dunstable Hospital. If it isn’t Steve recovering from a beating by Brute, it’s Brinsley Sheridan sat awkwardly with his broken leg resting halfway between the bed and the ceiling. And then of course there was Matthew Spring’s mouthy tirade at me the time I told him we couldn’t afford his five grand a week wages anymore.

Incidentally, if you ever wondered what happened to Sheridan, he never returned to training once recovered. He dropped out of football altogether for a while only to very recently turn up at St Albans. Apparently he’s signed a full time deal there now, so who knows, maybe we’ll see him line up against us later in the season? The lad will always be something of a cult figure at Kenilworth Road thanks to his awesome record of one game played one goal scored.

The reason I was back at hospital today was to see a certain Henry Rhodes-Chatto. I’ve not been coping very well with the knowledge of what I did to him, indirectly or not. Thus I decided a quick visit might ease my conscience. It turned out he was in exactly the same ward Sheridan had been in only one bed further along.

Thankfully he was alone; I’d had this horrible image of fifteen armed SWAT team members guarding the perimeter –

“Stay alert over there. The person who orchestrated the tackle is bound to turn up at the hospital eventually if only to ease his conscience. Over” – Myers.

“Don’t worry we’re keeping a tight net around the V.I.P. Nothing can get through. How do you want the suspect taken in? Over” – Field Commander Bloggs.

“Taken in? Taken out more like! This was an unprovoked attack on the royal family! Shoot on sight! Over” – Myers.

“Roger that. Over” – Field Commander Bloggs.

As already alluded to however, Henry was alone and unguarded. I managed to get to him without so much as a stray nurse asking me where I was going. The injured royal, like Sheridan before him, had his leg in a sling a yard or so off the bed. There was a television in the far corner of the ward. Last of the Summer Wine was on. Henry seemed to be glued to it.

“Any good?” I asked, stepping nonchalantly up to the bedside.

“Ah James old chap! How good of you to come”.

“Don’t mention it. So how’s the leg?”

“Completely shattered, unfortunately. The doctors say I’ll be lucky to be walking by summertime, and they’ve set me a target of New Year’s Day 2011 before I’ll be able to play sport again!”

“Are you going to come back to Luton when you’re all patched up? You’re free to come train with us again you know”.

“No I think I’m going to pass” Henry said, almost in a whisper. His smile had faded too. “You get a fair old chunk of time to just sit and think in this dastardly place, you know. And one of the things I’ve been thinking is that maybe football just isn’t my game. In fact you can pass the message on I’m officially retired actually”.

In politeness I looked down at the floor and pretended to be sad. Inside though I was delighted, and I hated myself for it. Oxymoron alert.

"So errr, has Keith been to visit per chance?"

"No. You'd think he would have done wouldn't you? Tell you the truth, I haven't had many visitors at all apart from press. A cute girl and another girl with black lipstick did turn up with some grapes the other day. Said they worked for Luton. I didn't believe them though".

“Yeah probably just a couple of chancers. So what are your plans for the future now?” I enquired. “Are you going to go to college maybe, get a job, what?”

“Are you joking?” he chuckled. “I said I was retired from football. I didn’t say all sport. Good lord no! That would be a shameful waste of my talent. As soon as I abscond from this beastly place I’m intending on taking up rugby union”.

“Rugby union” I repeated somewhat in a haze.

“Yes old chap; the one and the same. Some kind gentleman at the London Wasps club heard about my predicament and has offered me a chance to join them for training. When I get out of here I mean. Just between you and me, I think the chap might be harbouring intentions of using me to boost the profile of the club”.

Henry tapped his nose with his finger, as if trying to convey I was now privy to a secret nobody else knew.

“Anyway” he continued. “I’m not going to turn down a chance to try out for The Wasps, leg up or not. Apparently they’re one of the best sides around. Who knows? This might turn out to be the sport I should have been playing all along”.

“Yeah” I said. “Who knows? Anyway, I haven’t got time to stay and chat for too long. I just came to see how you are and also to give you this”.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. Then from that I produced a pre-written cheque.

“What’s this?” Henry asked, taking it from me.

“It’s your compensation payment, on behalf of Luton Town Football Club. I hope it goes some way to making up for what happened to you in our employ”.

“But this is a cheque from your personal cheque book”.

“Yeah, I couldn’t find the official club chequebook this afternoon. Don’t worry, they’ll pay me back”.

“Three thousand and fifty one pounds” he read slowly. “That’s rather an odd amount”.

“Don’t ask me, I just wrote out what I was told to. Anyway, don’t knock it. Money’s money. I’ve got to go anyway. You take care, Henry”.

“Okay. You take care too, James”.

First shaking his hand, I took one glance up to the telly and then made my exit. As I stepped out of the lift on ground floor I found myself wondering if I would ever see Henry again.

‘Only in my nightmares, hopefully. Goodbye, Henry Rhodes-Chatto. Heal well. And I'm sorry'.

[ScottleeSV]

22/01/10 - Tryouts

Caroline’s throw found Katrina on the right. Before the nearest eight year old could tackle her, he with the ridiculous looking rat tail, Katrina slid a ball sideways across the decking. It was meant for Nicky but Nicky kicked thin air and the ball went past her. Here Darren gathered and a goal was on the cards. With incisive feet he sidestepped one opponent, sidestepped Brenda, sidestepped another opponent, and then buried in the bottom left corner.

“Nice goal” I called out, applauding from the sidelines. “Caroline, Katrina - good distribution. Nicky - nice dummy. Darren - good finish. Brenda – good decoying. Okay, why don’t we have half time now? We’re pretty much halfway through the hour”.

“Yeah okay” responded Pete, guardian of the kid’s side.

Brian gathered up the stray yellow ball and moved to rendezvous with our team in the miniature centre circle. My concentration had wavered during that opening period however and I wanted to see what the root cause was. There were two indoor pitches in this hall separated by a huge green canvas sheet. At the same time our game was going on, another was taking place on the other side.

‘You don’t play for yourself, you play for the lightning!’ I’d heard one unscrupulous coach shout ten minutes ago.

Ignoring my associates for a few moments, I wandered over to the canvas and peered through it. Nobody behind me would mind. This wasn’t the first team. They didn’t need a big half time team talk. More often than I not I let the ladies (and Darren) do their own thing at the changeover and just give them an analysis in the cafe afterwards.

“Who’s the other match?” Brian asked, joining me by my side.

“Luton Lightning, I think”.

“Really? No way”.

“Yes way. Look at the lightning bolts on their shirts. It’s them alright. They must be doing tryouts”.

“Oh yeah, must be”.

It seems like an age since Paul Leonard took me out to that place by the motorway where all the redevelopments are springing up, the building of a brand new football stadium perhaps the most notable. Seeing the new team in its infancy, wearing purpose-designed shirts and running around practicing, it really hit home to me just how serious the project actually is.

“You’re not worried about them are you?” Brian posed.

“No. They’ll be starting three divisions lower than us next season, four if we get promoted. Even if they achieved promotion after promotion, it would take three or four years for them to catch up to us. If I’m still in charge by then I would have had a fantastic run as Luton manager and I won’t much care anyway”.

My assistant looked downwards and seemed to consider this for a moment. Then he surprised me by addressing a completely different subject altogether.

“I suppose you heard in The Bedfordshire Bulletin that Henry isn’t going to claim any compensation for the tackle? That’s what a so-called royal spokesman said anyway”.

“Yeah Henry told Caroline as much when she went to visit him in hospital. Obviously the royals are less broke than the media would have you believe. Anyway, he’s not going away completely empty handed. I forced a small cheque on him when I visited and he didn’t complain”.

“What did you do that for?”

“I don’t know. I’m his manager, I suppose. I guess I feel slightly responsible”.

“How much did you give him?”

I didn’t want to respond to that question and my brain was just starting to consider a false answer when Darren inadvertently saved the day.

“Boss, you might want to come take a look at this”.

“What is it?”

“Nicky’s picked up an injury”.

“What?”

Quickly Brian and I turned away from the canvas and headed for the centre circle. Nicky was lying on the ground with her head on Caroline’s lap. Obviously things weren’t too serious though because Katrina and Brenda weren’t even interested; they were talking to each other and drinking water over by the door to the hall.

“What is it?” I asked again.

“Just above her kneecap” Caroline replied.

“This red bruise here?”

“Yeah” Nicky confirmed.

It was about the size of a golf ball. Carefully I put my left hand under her leg and with my other I used my thumb to press down on the bruise.

“Does this hurt?”

“No”.

“Not at all?”

“No”.

“So it’s just a bruise then, in other words?”

“Yeah but it wasn’t there before the game started. What do you think that means?”

Slowly I stood up and put hands on hips. Darren and Brian were both smiling either side of me.

“I think it looks worse than it is” I said finally. “Touch and go but I think you’re going to be okay”.

“Told you!” Caroline exclaimed.

“Can’t take any chances though can you?” – Nicky. “Henry said when he broke his leg he didn’t even realise what was happening to him at the time it happened”.

“Okay, time for the second half” I shouted, clapping my hands loudly. “Nicky, why don’t you take over from Caroline in goal for ten minutes, just in case it is a broken leg?”

“Okay!”

‘Lord preserve’.

[ScottleeSV]

23/01/10 - Concrete way

Today sees our second league game in the space of four days. It’s actually the middle fixture of a tough three game league run which started with Histon on the 20th, continues today Stevenage on the 23rd, and finishes next week Crawley on the 26th. It’s little periods like this where squad depth and player fitness really come to the fore.

Founded as recently as 1976, Stevenage Borough Football Club spent the first fifteen years of its existence deep in the non-league wilderness. Then in the early nineties they sprung to life, winning three promotions in four seasons to wind up in the Conference National. They would have made it more or less straight into the football league too, but in 1996 were prevented from going up due to issues with their stadium. They’ve been stuck in the fifth tier ever since.

We make just one change from the team which beat Histon; Michael Taylor is given a rest so Danny Cadamateri switches to right wing. This enables Bowditch to come back in up front with Bridges. It might seem a risky decision to move the guy who’s scored three in two games out wide, but our goals scored record in recent outings has not been hot. We’ve netted four in four and I really need more than that. Thus, let’s see if having three strikers on the pitch makes a difference.

Some cup draw news – in the semi finals of The Live Bunny Cup we’ve been paired away to Forest Green. There are no neutral venues in the last four of this competition, so a long cross country trip to Gloucestershire it is. In the other match, Histon will host Rushden and Diamonds. Wouldn’t it be interesting if we ended up playing Rushden in the final? Wally Robins and Nadine Gouvell are probably hoping that’s the way it pans out.

In the last 16 of the FA Trophy we’ve been handed a real toughie. It’s Oxford away. Apart from Rushden away, this is arguably the hardest draw we could have got. On the flip side, if we lose at least I’ll be able to say – “Well look, you can’t just expect a result away to Oxford every time you go there”.

There wasn’t much to do in Stevenage. The town centre is nice and modern (I had a cafe breakfast) but very lacking in terms of things to see and do. After a tip-off from a cafe waitress I drove out to Knebworth House, a huge stately home and gardens. Alas the place was closed. It doesn’t open for its summer season until March. Waste of a drive.

Broadhall Way, soon to be called The Lamex Stadium thanks a big sponsorship deal, is a 7100 capacity ground containing 3142 seats. Privately however I renamed the place Concrete Way in light of its not very aesthetic positioning next to a large motorway road. The away stand is a 1400 all seated stand; all our tickets had sold out today. The game is a local derby after all.

“Big game today, boys” I said with a smile. “Don’t be fooled by the easiness of our two wins against them at Kenilworth Road. Before the season started I earmarked this as one of our toughest away fixtures of the season, and I haven’t changed my mind. Brian, remind them of the important statistics”.

“With pleasure, sir” replied my assistant, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. “Stevenage are currently an impressive 6th out of 24 teams. They’ve lost just 5 of 27 league games this season, scoring 53 goals in the process. It’s worth noting we’ve only scored 59 ourselves. Combine these stats with the local derby element and you’ve got one hell of a tough task ahead of you today”.

“Thank you, Brian. Make no mistake about it, gentlemen. Today is massive. Put in an adequate display like you did at Rushden and we’ll lose our top spot again. I want to see assured free-flowing football of the type which saw us score all those goals at the likes of Burton, Kidderminster, and Crawley earlier in the season. Now go on, punks, make my day. Kevin, lead them out”.

The atmosphere inside the ground was electric. There must have been 4000 here today. Easy. As the white and red of Stevenage strolled out side by side with the orange of Luton, huge roars sounded out from everywhere. It was show time once again. On the speaker system, Another Night by Corona quickly began to move through the gears as the players warmed up.

“I’d take a draw today, Brian” I said, zipping my coat up as far as it would possibly go. It was another cold January’s day.

“I wouldn’t. Rushden are bound to beat Mansfield at home”.

“Yeah but going one point behind them is better than two. Still a lot of games to play after today. Anyway, we’ll see”.

Out in the middle, the referee called the two captains together.

[ScottleeSV]

23/01/10, League Match 28

Stevenage Borough v Luton Town

GK – Dean Brill (86 apps, 0 goals)

DL – Richie Byrne (24 apps, 1 goal)

DR – Claude Gnakpa (80 apps, 2 goals)

DC – George Pilkington (80 apps, 2 goals)

DC – Tony James (34 apps, 2 goals)

DMC – Kevin Nicholls (52 apps, 14 goals)

MC – Keith Keane (71 apps, 9 goals)

ML – Charlie Daniels (31 apps, 3 goals)

MR – Danny Cadamateri (24 apps, 10 goals)

FC – Michael Bridges (23 apps, 10 goals)

FC – Dean Bowditch (13 apps, 4 goals)

When football pitch fisticuffs happen, it’s not usually in the first five minutes. That’s what happened here though when Daniels took exception to a tackle by Oliver. Maybe it was a ploy to put our best winger out of action early? Regardless, it was worthy of a red card and so was Daniels’ shove back. Fortunately the referee saw sense and only booked the players. Ten against ten for eighty five minutes is not something I would have wanted to risk.

In the 15th minute the same player was crunched again, leading to angry shouts from our bench. Remarkably Daniels was unscathed. Nicholls stood over the resulting free kick, waving players forward as he walked backwards in preparation to take it. The ball over was an in-swinger. It remarkably curled just in front of about twelve heads, bamboozled the keeper, and bounced once on its way in off the far post.

Goals in certain games have that special X-Factor that make you go utterly bananas. This was one of them. The 1400 away fans down the other end were bouncing around as if the goal was a last minute winner. Some of them had spilled onto the pitch by the goal. As Brian slapped me twice on the shoulder, I wondered if this only recently established local derby was finally beginning to acquire its bite.

The conclusive answer to that question came four minutes later. Bostwick spun on the spot like one of those unrealistic computer game footballers, poking it out to Boylan near the touchline. The man on the ball then only fortunately kept the ball away from Gnakpa and Nicholls. Infield he went to Martin, who with the outside of his foot curled one around Pilkington’s outstretched right leg. Striker Steve Morrison now had the ball in his path. At a slight angle there was only Brill to beat too.

Morrison belted the ball left footed. It hit the underside of Brill’s wrist, bounced into the ground, and then carried on into the far corner of the net. Lovely equaliser. Morrison ran to the nearest home stand and bounced about pretending to fire pistols. The noise around the stadium was electric. One a piece and not even twenty minutes played.

D’Laryea’s header from a corner two minutes later almost put the home side in front. Brill saved acrobatically, deflecting the ball up and out to the edge of the area. Boylan and Ashton almost began fighting over who was going to shoot. In the end Ashton won out, curling a shot through the bodies. Brill was unsighted but just about saw it at the last moment to tip it around the post. The keeper seemed to be motioning that the sound of drums from one of the home stands was impairing his communication with the defence.

27 minutes and another effort from the edge of the box, this time from Morrison. On this occasion Tony James got his leg in the way and the ball looped high into an open space near the centre circle. Laird then made an elementary mistake, the ball bouncing off his thigh and straight to Keane. The midfield maestro quickly sent Daniels away down the left. Stevenage in their excitement had overcommitted. There was a breakaway chance to score here.

Charlie’s pace was sensational. To be fair so was defender Henry’s. Just as I thought Daniels was going to go all the way in on goal from the halfway line, one last burst of pace from Henry put him between Daniels and the goalkeeper. Still, the winger had a trick up his sleeve, feigning one way and then jinking to the left. The margin for shooting remained tight but he went for it. The ball deflected off Henry’s panicked outstretched right foot and went over Day into the high part of the net.

Regardless of the deflection, that goal was fantastic. Again Luton fans spilled onto the pitch and again Brian and I went probably more overboard with the congratulations than we’d normally do. I’d expected a tight game and here we were in this position! There was still work to be done however. Despite being in the ascendancy we hadn’t necessarily been the better side.

The downhearted home side suddenly looked unsure of what to do. I’d have though the answer was obvious given how they responded to the first Luton goal. Still, when Bridges turned and stung Day’s hands from outside the area on the half hour, I wondered if we might push on and really make it a half of football to remember. Three minutes later a Cadamateri shimmy and cross only just evaded Bowditch and the far post. It was almost a repeat of the first goal.

Stevenage finally recovered their composure in the 44th minute. Oliver toiled forwards and found Morrison with a lovely progressive low ball which must have travelled about forty yards up the middle without a Luton player getting near it. Big man Morrison held off Pilkington and screamed for support. Boylan and Martin provided it, dragging markers all over the shop. It looked like Morrison would opt for Boylan but at the last minute went the other way.

Martin took hold of the pass and dragged himself into pretty much the same position Morrison had earlier scored from. The left foot shot fizzed towards the top right hand corner but went a foot wide with Brill rooted. The goalkeeper thereafter began screaming and waving his hands at the defence. Rightfully so, as that was almost a second soft leveller. We’d made it though. We’d made it to the break with a lead I hadn’t expected to get.

[pompey13]

Great story, you have a great talent for this sort of thing. KUTGW!

[ScottleeSV]

Cheers Pompey. I'm glad you like the story so far

------------

The dressing room atmosphere at the interval was upbeat but edgy. The players clearly wanted to win this game. They were fidgety, jumpy, and talkative. I didn’t mind that at all. They were in the moment, focused. It was better than the occasional times I come in and find them talking about women, or some TV show they’ve been watching.

“Not bad this, guys. You can’t expect to be the dominant team in every game so to be in front in this one is a bonus. If we’re going to keep it that way, though, we’re going to have to work our arses off for another forty five minutes. We know they’re a sharp little side going forward. We know they know this level of football. We know they’re up for it. The ball’s in your court, and maybe the lap of the gods too. Let’s go”.

Lap of the gods was about right. In the 49th minute, during a rather innocent spell of midfield clamouring, Nicholls suddenly looked up and saw something nobody else did. With barely any warning he volleyed the ball a foot off the ground in the direction of Day’s goal a full forty yards away. The keeper had been caught standing slightly too far out here and would now have to hope Nicholls’ punt was less accurate than it was inventive.

When the ball came down it ricocheted off the bar and out past the mesmerised Day. Quickest man onto it was Cadamateri, just the man I would want to collect given the form he was in. His second and third touches though were laboured, the ball getting stuck under his feet a tad. Oliver caught up to him, inducing Cadders to shoot earlier than he would have wanted. High and over it went, straight into the arms of Luton fans still disbelieving that Nicholls’ shot hadn’t landed in.

Continuing the theme of lap of the gods, next up it was Stevenage’s turn. A diagonal ball from Ashton sent Morrison into space down the left. Only Martin was running into the area here but a slip from Tony James left Martin with more space to receive a pass than he should have been entitled to. Morrison crossed and Martin took it well on his chest, spinning to the side of Pilkington before volleying left footed. A foot wide. Brill was again rooted. Martin jumped up and down on the spot in frustration.

Time to start thinking about subs. As I was doing that, Keane swiped the ball illegally from under Bostwick’s close control and somehow got away with it. Cadamateri gathered on the right and dribbled forwards, eventually coming inland. Bowditch was looking for a reverse ball into the area but Cadders went for Bridges instead. The star man controlled well and leaned his upper body forwards, just inside the area. I thought he might swivel and shoot but instead he fed Bowditch with a short low pass. Bowditch immediately did a drag back and D’Laryea clipped him over. Penalty.

Obviously Nicholls was going to take this and I thought that fitting because he’d had a great game up to this point. He was shooting towards the away fans so no worries about him being put off. Confidently The Skip measured his run up and jogged in. I thought there was a bit of the Beckham actually in the way he did this. There was a bit of Beckham in the finish too, the ball whizzing at chest height one way – the left way - as the keeper went the other. Get in my son.

After the intense celebrations, we almost made the game safe straight away. Daniels pumped a ball into the mixer and Bridges’ sweet volley was saved by the legs of Day. Cadamateri followed in but could only hit more legs. Then Bowditch, from an angle, goal gaping, fired over. If we hadn’t been two goals ahead by that point I really would have been very annoyed.

With such a busy schedule at the moment, it only made sense to make substitutions before the latter stages. In fact, what the hell, I made all three at once! We weren’t going to throw it away from here were we? In the 74th minute therefore, once they’d warmed up, I brought on Gill, McCracken, and Buckley. Gill replaced Nicholls (to a standing ovation from the away end), McCracken replaced Pilkington, and Buckley came on for the tired looking Bridges. All that remained now was to see the game out.

Steve Morrison though had other ideas. In the 79th minute Byrne mistimed a tackle on the touchline, allowing substitute O’Connor to skip into space. Men were pouring forward in support here. All the attack needed was a sensibly thought out final ball. It got it. O’Connor pulled back for Morrison and the big guy side-footed beautifully into the opposite corner for 2-3. Game on again. Some of the Stevenage fans had been halfway to the exits prior to that attack. Now they were scurrying back to their seats again.

In the final ten minutes the home said pegged us back in our own half, searching for a dramatic equaliser that would have brought the house down. With ten men so deep we should have been difficult to break down. Bostwick though was finding space for fun. With four minutes left he slipped a lovely ball into Boylan. The defence had gone AWOL here because they were all focusing on Morrison! Boylan was through on Brill!

Just to prolong the agony, the guy now more or less in charge of our destiny decided to go around the keeper rather than shoot. He managed that just fine. James and Gnakpa sprinted towards the line but it was going to be futile. No way Boylan could fail to find the net with only two people in front of him who weren’t allowed to use hands.

Boylan took a moment to steady himself and then pulled the trigger. The shot was low, powerful, on target. It hit Gnakpa’s leg and deflected sideways and around the post for a corner. Unbelievable. The drama wasn’t done. After the first corner was headed behind by Daniels, the second one was met by the head of D’Laryea. The defender up from the back literally thundered a header past Brill.

Again it was cleared off the line, this time by the stooping head of McCracken. When Keane gathered and hoofed the ball up the field it was met with an almighty roar from the away end. The danger had passed. The serious danger that is. We saw out injury time by time wasting and winning free kicks. Martin rifled a twenty yard shot over the bar in the 90th but that was it. We had won a priceless away victory on a very difficult ground.

--------------------

FINAL SCORE (Att - 3853)

Stevenage Borough 2 (Morrison 19, 79)

Luton Town 3 (Nicholls 15, 65pen, Daniels 27)

--------------------

(other results)

Weymouth 0-1 Grays

AFC Wimbledon 1-0 York

Burton 3-3 Tamworth

Crawley 0-0 Ebbsfleet

Droylsden 3-3 Cambridge

Forest Green 4-0 St Albans

Histon 1-2 Kidderminster

Kettering 4-1 Salisbury

Oxford 1-1 Northwich

Rushden 3-3 Mansfield

Woking 1-1 Macclesfield

-------------------------

(Top eight with all teams having played 28/46 games)

1 - Luton (65)

2 - Rushden (62)

3 - Grays (58)

4 - York (53)

5 - Salisbury (47)

6 - Stevenage (46)

7 - Oxford (45)

8 - Crawley (44)

[ScottleeSV]

24/01/10 - Powerplay

On Sunday morning Keith Keane texted me to request a private meeting, and he wanted it ASAP. I didn’t bother putting him off. I texted back right there and then to give him a time and place he could see me that very same afternoon. The time would be 2pm, the place my private office on the first floor. I had no scruples about coming to work on God’s day of rest. The alternative was three hours of Eastenders catch-ups with Chantelle.

Instinctively I knew what Keith wanted. Kind of. In the eighteen months or so I’ve been at the club, he’s never wanted to meet with me before. Then, the moment I owe him a favour, hey presto, barely a week passes and all of a sudden he wants a meeting. This wasn’t going to be a discussion about team tactics, or a confession to strip club addiction. This was Keane calling in his favour. If anything I was surprised he hadn’t done it sooner.

“So what I can do you for, Keith?” I asked, not liking the look of his smug grin as he entered the room. For a man who had surely been having sleepless nights recently over Henry’s accident, his demeanour was remarkably upbeat. No bags around the eyes, nothing. Nope. Not here, doc.

“I’ve come to call in my favour” he announced.

“Fair enough, but if your intent is to ask for a pay rise then forget it. There’s no money in the budget at all, and I don’t have any sway over Erica when it comes to – “

“I know” he said, raising his hand to stop me in my tracks. “I’ve had the pleasure of meeting the bitch, remember? That’s not what I came for”.

Intrigued I leaned back in my chair. Ever since his text I’d presumed this could only be about money. After all, what else do footballers care about? The fact it wasn’t about the green stuff took me completely by surprise.

“What is it then?”

“Do you err – “

“Do I what?”

“Do you – remember – the time I was – you know – going out with Nicky?”

“Yeah I remember, Keith”.

“And you know how – why – that ended, right?”

“Yeah. You slept with someone else. And you got me and the club in a s__tload of bother while you were at it”.

Keith looked downwards and didn’t immediately respond. In the blink of an eye his whole body language had changed. The cocky guy who’d walked in had been replaced by an uncertain mess of a man who had an expression on his face like the world had ended, or was about to. It was almost unnerving. Not in a month of Sundays had I ever expected to see Keith Keane stripped of his bravado.

“Yeah well” he followed up with. “I’m thinking I’d like to try again with her, you know, give it another shot. What do you think?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because – well – she won’t talk to me anymore. She doesn’t answer the phone and she doesn’t reply to texts. She’d talk to you though. I was thinking you could – you know – persuade her to give me another try. That’s the favour I’d like you to do for me. Then we’ll be even”.

“And what makes you think she’d listen to me anymore than she would you?”

“Oh come on, boss. I know you and her are friends. You’re friends with all those pen pushers in the office. What’s more, Nicky used to mention you a lot. James this, James that. She had a lot of respect for you back then, and I bet that’s still the case now”.

“Keith, I want you listen to me very carefully. I’m not saying this to annoy you. I’m not saying this to hurt you. Believe me when I say though, there is absolutely zero chance she would go out with you again. You’re absolutely right when you say that she and I are friends, so take my word for it, it’s just not going to happen. She’s moved on a long way since then”.

“If anybody could talk her around, though, you could. You’re really good at that s__t. I’ve seen you at half time during the games. That’s why you’re a manager. You can do this for me! Come on, I know you can”.

I had a half finished cup of coffee in front of me at the moment. Sighing heavily I picked it up now and took my first sip for quite some time. It was cold.

“Keith, even if I was the world’s best person at convincing people to do things, I would still not be able to achieve what it is that you’re asking. I’d have more chance of getting you the pay rise! Trust me you’ve got no idea the changes that have happened in that girl since The Royal Hotel incident. It’s not just a case of you doing something wrong and her dumping you for it. That whole experience made her realise you were the wrong kind of bloke for her in the first place!”

“And what kind of bloke is that exactly?”

“The f__k should I know? I’ve never given it that much thought! All I know is, she would never go for what you’re suggesting. I know that much”.

Looking on the verge of tears, the midfielder rose from his chair and headed for the door. He wasn’t done though. The movement was purely a means for stretching his legs. In an instant he was sat back down and facing me across the desk with renewed determination.

If I wasn’t careful here, sadness would give way to stubbornness.

[tenthreeleader]

Very nice non-football post. I'm really impressed with your character work and the ease with which you are starting to slide into and out of FM storylines. Top-drawer stuff.

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks Tenthree mate

-------------

24/01/10 - Powerplay (part 2)

“If I were you I’d let this one go” I suggested, sipping more cold coffee. “Plenty more good looking girls out there, right? And it’s not like you’d ever trouble picking them up, either. You’re good looking, young, and you’re a footballer with a bit of cash to throw around. No problems at all. Especially for you”.

“You don’t understand” he replied miserably. “Nicky’s special. She’s not like all the other little tarts you meet out and about around Luton”.

“That’s neither here nor there though is it? Even if there was a long term chance for you two, you blew it. Sorry but that’s the way life works. If I cheated on my own girlfriend I’d expect nothing less than the same fate”.

A brief silence ensued. Keith cocked his head to one side throughout the duration, deep in thought.

“At first it didn’t seem that bad, you know, breaking up. Then I saw her out on Halloween. She was in an angel’s costume. I didn’t understand why at first. I mean, you’re supposed to wear scary s__t on Halloween, right? Anyway, a couple of days later I found out that the reason she’d done that was because she thinks there’s too many evil costumes about on Halloween, and that by wearing an angel costume she was helping to make the country less evil for that one night”.

‘That's pretty damn sexy. Then again, so are devils'.

“You see, boss, that’s the kind of person she is – different, you know, a good sort. That Halloween example isn’t the best example but it’s one example. So you see I got to have another go. She’s the only girl I’ve ever been out who’s not just a waste of space out for what they can get off me. You gotta do this for me, boss. Come on. Please”.

This truly was a pathetic sight. At the rate he was going the next step could only be actual tears and maybe an attempt to crawl under the desk and kiss my feet.

“Keith, I genuinely sympathise. I do. The answer is no though”.

“You rotten f__ker!” he shouted, leaping out of his chair again. For a second I thought he might pick it up and throw it like Gascoigne did after getting dropped for France 98.

“Keith, just – “

“No, just shut up! I can’t believe you. I come in here and bare my deepest feelings that I would never normally show to any guy, and you just throw them right back at me”.

“It’s not like that, Keith. If you just let me – “

“No forget it! If you’re gonna be a tight b_stard then I’ll be a tight b_stard too. Now look, you ARE going to talk Nicky for me! You OWE me! If you don’t do this, I’ll expose the whole Henry thing. I’ll blow it wide open!”

He’d well and truly thrown his toys out of the pram now. He hadn’t got what he’d wanted so now he was having a tantrum. Well too bad. Like I would even want Nicky going out with a guy like this even if I could make it happen (which I knew I couldn’t, by the way. I hadn’t been lying about that).

“You can’t expose me, Keith” I told him calmly, shuffling uncomfortably in my seat regardless. “Expose me and you expose yourself. Besides, even if you did manage to get me banished from the footballing world forevermore, I’d just go back to practicing law. What would you do, Keith?”

“Who said anything about getting you sacked?” he retaliated with. “I don’t want to lose my career anymore than you do. How would you feel though if I let your little pen pusher buddies know what you had me do? I could just waltz in there one day and let them all know. It’s not like they’d have the power to take it any further. Sure they’d develop a very low opinion of me, but as if I’d care! As for you, well, I’m betting they’d be absolutely shocked at your little role in the whole thing. In fact I very much doubt they’d want to be friends anymore. What do you think about that?"

"So if you can't have her as your girlfriend, I can't even have her as a friend. Is that the way it's going to work?"

"Yep. Her and the other pen pushers too".

“None of them would believe a word of it”.

“Oh I think they would. My dad used to have a phrase – there’s no burning without fire”.

‘It’s smoke, you idiot. There’s no smoke without fire’.

“Don’t do it, Keith. Just don’t”.

The grin was back on his face though. By the looks of it, we’d come full circle and right back around again to the smug Keith who’d first walked in.

“Then talk to Nicky!” he reiterated. “You’ve got two weeks. If I’m not back with her by then, that whole office is getting some very interesting gossip thrown their way".

“Oh come on! I’ve told you she’d never go for it! You can’t just crap on my friendships because of something I’ve got no control over! That’s not fair! Come on!”

“That reminds me. My dad had another phrase – there’s no such word as can’t”.

“Okay, wait, look, just hold on a moment! Let’s say I try really hard, but she doesn’t go for it, can we just agree that I did my best and – “

“No! She either goes back out with me, or you’re screwed. Two weeks!”

And that, as they say, was that. Before I could say anything else Keith scarpered for the door.

[Lucy :)]

Loving this~! Only up to page 5 I think James has just slept with Paula and is off to a National Park!

Is there a lot of you in the story such as liking museums and galleries and being a bit of a hard arse as well or is this all just James Martin?

[ScottleeSV]

Thanks a lot, Lucy. Cheers.

To answer the questions. The tough guy thing is a James Martin thing only. With museums, I like those too

--------------

25/01/10 - Persistent caller

I lay awake long past midnight tonight trying to think of a way out of my predicament.

‘I could let Nicky in on everything and trust she won’t go too mad. Then I could get her to pretend to go out with Keith for maybe a week. Then after a week she could dump him. Technically speaking, technically, I would then have fulfilled my side of the bargain. Keith said he just needs to go back out with her. He didn’t say the union would have to last a minimum length of time’.

Nope. No good. Regardless of the fact Nicky would never go out with Keith just for pretend, Keith wasn’t above changing the goalposts as he went along. He’d cry foul if Nicky dumped him after a week.

“Damn” I whispered in the dark. To my left Chantelle stirred but didn’t wake up. She was sleeping naked. It really wasn’t helping me concentrate. Then again, I’d gone though this same brainstorming process the previous night sleeping on my own and nothing had come to mind then either.

‘I could send an E-mail out to all the office staff with the idle gossip that Keith has been annoying his teammates by making things up about them. Then when he carries out his threat, they’ll all assume he’s made me his next victim and pay no mind’.

No. It would seem odd to them I’d suddenly gossip about a player’s behaviour. By and large, what happens in the dressing room stays in the dressing room. Everybody knows that, even Nicky.

As I pondered this, somewhere in the distance I could hear the sound of a home phone going off, probably somebody’s in one of the adjoining buildings. Who would be calling someone at this time of night though? Crazy.

‘Maybe I could get Dilic onboard, arrange for Keith to be paid a little visit by Brute? No, I’m done with that game. Seriously not going down that path’.

The phone was still ringing. Was it Chantelle’s? Hard to tell because her home phone is downstairs where as we were upstairs. The ringing was only faint, hence why it hadn’t woken Chantelle up, but then given how many doors were closed between ourselves and the living room right now...

Unable to sleep anyway, I clambered out of bed and went to the bedroom door. Chantelle stirred again (and mumbled something) but didn’t wake up. Quickly but quietly I opened the door, slipped out onto the landing, then closed the door behind me again. The ringing was still going.

How many rings had there been now? Fifty? A hundred? Had to be. Who the hell calls somebody for that long without giving up, and especially at this hour? Cocking my ears towards the stairs, I now believed the noise to definitely be coming from Chantelle’s phone and not someone else’s. Thus the question now became – who would be ringing Chantelle this long without giving up?

Being careful to tiptoe whenever possible I crept down the staircase. As I did this I was reminded of that stupid joke again, the one with the electrician in the dark dark house. To get from the hallway to the room where the phone was it only took an additional five seconds. Thereafter I was finally able to witness firsthand the full shrill repetition of the vibrating instrument.

A hundred and fifty rings now (probably) and still going. Chantelle’s home phone is on a little table just to the left of the settee. Rather than sit down and answer it I decided to stand. I wasn’t expecting a long conversation, something along the lines of – ‘f_ck off it’s the middle of the night’. That kind of thing.

At the last moment something stopped me picking the receiver up. You see I had an inkling as to who the caller might be, and it spooked me just a little. What if it was Luke’s dad? What if he was one of those pricks who likes to call up his exes when he’s drunk or something? Stuart. That was his name. Stuart the army guy. What if Stuart was a bit of a pest and that was why Chantelle didn’t mention him much? Maybe that was the reason he didn’t have much involvement in Luke’s life too.

Just then the ringing finally stopped, meaning I wasn’t going to find out either way. Playing a hunch though I now picked the receiver up and dialled the number which tells you who was the last person to call. Predictably enough, the last call had been withheld. That didn’t necessarily mean my theory was on the money, but really, and without even knowing the guy, who else would possibly call for that long?

Okay theoretically it could have been anybody, perhaps calling to report a death or some accident. If that was the case though why weren’t they trying Chantelle’s mobile? Anybody who knows hers will know she never leaves that thing alone or uncharged even for a minute. She even takes it to the toilet with her.

My brain now wrestling with two separate conundrums, I returned up the stairs.

[ScottleeSV]

26/01/10 - Not very Keane

To her it would have looked like an accidental meeting. It wasn’t though.

“Ah, Bounty” I said, pointing at the chocolate bar she’d just bought from the machine. “Great minds think alike”.

“You like Bounty?” Nicky asked.

“Not especially but I do like chocolate. I’m a Galaxy nut, remember?”

“Oh yeah”.

We were standing just inside the doorway of the canteen, me having followed her up here when I was more or less sure she was making her morning Bounty run. The only other person currently present was Tony James, sat on his own reading a copy of Empire magazine.

“Hey, do you fancy having a quick sit down before we go back to work? You could make this your official break if you don’t mind missing out on your Caroline chat for once”.

“No that’s fine!” she beamed. “I’m going out with her at lunch anyway. Oh, I’ll need coffee though if I’m going to eat this up here. One from the machine will do for now”.

I concurred, so one after the other we tapped the button on the machine that would give us white coffee. As Nicky was doing hers, I got some change out and purchased a Galaxy bar from the confectionary machine. Then we sat down in our favourite seats next to the window and at the back.

“Been a while since it was just me and you having a chat; no-one else” I pointed out, unwrapping my snack.

“Yeah, has been. We should catch up more often”.

“Yeah definitely. So how have you been anyway?”

“Pretty good thanks! You?”

“Yeah not bad. Not bad”.

“Good”.

Not much else was said as we munched our chocolate. No rush though. No rush. She was absolutely right about needing the beverage. Nothing worse than when you’ve just eaten a chocolate bar and there’s no drink on hand to wash it down with. I think I wasted half my coffee just getting rid of the little bits of Galaxy stuck in my teeth.

“Caroline says you went on a date with someone” I told her.

“That was ages ago!” she laughed. “Start of December, I think”.

“That long ago was it? I take it things didn’t go too well then”.

She thought this one over briefly.

“Well, he wasn’t a bad guy. I met him on a night out. His name was Joe. He was really really tall. Huge. Maybe six foot something. Anyway, we met up to go out for some drinks one night. We had a good time but he had to go about eleven for some reason. The next week he texted me to say that he actually lived in Ambleshot or somewhere”.

“Aldershot?”

“Yeah that was it. Somewhere up north I think. Anyway, he said that because he lived in this place - Aldershot - he didn’t think it was worth going out again”.

“You sure he wasn’t just yanking your chain because he didn’t like you?”

“That did cross my mind but I haven’t seen him out even once since then, and I usually go out at least once a weekend. Maybe he actually was just in Luton for one week or something?”

More than likely. Nicky’s a top drawer catch when she’s out and about (or even not out and about). It’s hard to imagine too many blokes not wanting a second date with her. Even the sharks, you would think, would at least stick it out a second or third time in the hope of getting something.

“Yeah probably. Good to see you getting back on the horse again though. I thought you might give up on men permanently after that Keith thing”.

“Well, at the time, I did feel like giving up. Long time ago now though”.

“Ever see him around at all?” I risked asking.

“Sometimes. In the corridors. In here too. We never speak though. I’m glad though. I prefer it that way”.

“So you’d never – you know – I mean – if he maybe – asked you out again, say, would you ever – “

“Oh no! Never in a billion light years!”

“What about in a trillion light years?”

“Nope. Not then either”.

"A zillion?"

"Nope".

So that was then. Waste of time even pursuing the matter. Whether Keith liked it or not, his days as Nicky’s boyfriend were as the dead as the dodo.

And yet, despite the big hole it left me in, I wasn’t as dejected as I could have been. Partly this was because I’d privately predicted beforehand Nicky wouldn’t be interested. Another side of me just didn’t want her getting mixed up with Keith again anyway. I care about Nicky a lot (and the other office folk too). Regardless of what it might mean for me in twelve days time, I’d rather she carry on doing what she’s doing and eventually meet one of life’s decent guys.

“How’s Caroline doing at the moment?” I asked, resisting the temptation to ask why Nicky was wearing a scarf indoors.

“Not bad”.

“How’s her saving for the goth festival going?”

“I don’t know. She says it’s going okay, but I’m not so sure”.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t know, I just have a suspicion she’s not saving what she should be saving for it. I’m not saying it’s her fault, if that were true. I’m just saying I’m not sure she’s on target. It’s just a feeling I have. It’s the way she answers the question whenever I ask it. She always answers it quietly, and then quickly changes the subject”.

That was good work by Nicky. I can’t tackle a problem like this if I don’t know about it.

“Don’t worry” I said. “I’m going to just buy her a ticket for the damn thing. She’ll probably protest and look embarrassed but better that than she misses out. I'll just say it's a present for working hard. In fact I’ll get onto that tomorrow just to get it out of the way. How about you? I take it you’re not in any danger of falling short?”

“Nope. I’m well on the way. It’s only January and I’ve akready put over a hundred pounds into the giraffe bank”.

“The what?”

“The giraffe bank. It’s like a piggy bank but my one’s a giraffe. I’ve named him Tubby. I found him in an antique shop a while ago. He’s really cute. I’m only putting one and two pound coins in him though so he doesn’t get too full of loose change”.

“That’s – nice. Have you not thought about using a proper bank for savings though?”

“Yeah, but banks get robbed sometimes don’t they? I worry sometimes about how safe my normal account is”.

“Right. Fair enough”.

Downing the remainder of my coffee, I made a mental note to sort out Caroline’s festival ticket ASAP. If Keith really was going to carry out his threat then this act of kindness might at least soften Caroline up for when the embarrassment hit.

If I could get Caroline in a forgiving/understanding mood then that was half the battle won, because I didn’t think Darren would be upset at me at all. I actually think he’d sympathise with my side of the story very quickly if he knew it, far more than Brian would. Darren’s a Luton boy through and through. He’d understand why I did what I did. I’m sure of it.

Brenda would be the trickiest. I doubt she’d understand at all. As for Nicky, who can say? She’d be somewhere in the middle, most likely. I’d just have to see.

“Catch you later, Nickster” I said, rising to leave.

“Later, alligator”.

[ScottleeSV]

26/01/10, League Match 29

Luton Town v Crawley Town

GK – Dean Brill (87 apps, 0 goals)

DL – Charlie Daniels (32 apps, 4 goals)

DR – Claude Gnakpa (81 apps, 2 goals)

DC – George Pilkington (81 apps, 3 goals)

DC – David McCracken (22 apps, 1 goal)

MC – Matthew Gill (32 apps, 1 goal)

MC – Keith Keane (72 apps, 9 goals)

ML – Clint Easton (14 apps, 0 goals)

MR – Michael Taylor (24 apps, 0 goals)

FC – Michael Bridges (24 apps, 10 goals)

FC – Danny Cadamateri (25 apps, 10 goals)

This being our third league game in seven days, fatigue was beginning to play its part. It didn’t help that our most recent match against Stevenage had been a huge energy sapping affair, both mentally and physically. Players were suffering with tiredness and niggles. As such, I had to leave some of them out and trust the depth of our squad could still get the job done. It was only Crawley at home after all.

Out then went James, Byrne, and Nicholls. Replacing them were McCracken, Easton, and Gill. Also returning to the team was Michael Taylor, coming in for Cadamateri on the right wing. I didn’t drop Cadamateri given the form he’s in; I dropped Bowditch instead and returned Cadamateri into a striker’s role alongside Bridges. Due to the switch involving Byrne and Easton, Charlie Daniels reverted to left back.

We began the match looking a bit flat. Bulman quickly went on a mazy run in the centre and played Weatherstone into the channel between McCracken and Daniels. The guy was in a good place to shoot here. Instead though he fell over a non-challenge from McCracken and tried for the penalty. Not given. Weatherstone even earned a yellow card for his failures.

Our first attack of note didn’t come until 16. Having not played against Stevenage, Taylor looked the most fresh of the Luton first teamers on display. He danced past Forrest now and zoomed down the right touchline. His cross into the centre was a peach. It landed perfectly for Bridges who headed powerfully past Raynor in the Crawley goal. Unfortunately however the linesman’s flag was up. Apparently Taylor had taken the ball over the throw-in line just before crossing.

I noticed before long Crawley were playing a 3.5.2 formation and using it well. They were stifling us in midfield. Our only attacks were developing from long balls out to the wings, and even they were only happening on Taylor’s side. Easton was too slow on the left wing to properly take advantage of anything passed to him. Daniels eventually cottoned onto this and began making more forward runs in support.

21 minutes and a collector’s item from Taylor. No, not a goal, rather a cross with his left foot after turning back inside. It wasn’t a great one but he did almost score from it. The ball landed at the feet of Quinn inside the area but his half volley clearance was sliced backwards. With keeper completely rooted to his line, the ball lobbed itself up and landed on the roof of the net.

Three minutes later Crowell raced onto a flick-in from Killeen and chose to shoot from twenty five yards. It was a good clean strike but nestled comfortably in Brill’s arms. From the goal kick, Gill left his studs in on Weatherstone and earned himself a yellow card. This match was frustrating. There were too many namby-pamby incidents of little consequence and not enough solid chances. I actually went to the toilet on the half hour just to clear my head and have a little think about it.

In the 34th minute, Keane fathomed half a yard of space just inside the Crawley half. With red shirts closing in on him quickly the midfielder poked a ball forwards to Cadamateri. The striker scooped the ball into his path and decided to take on the last man with a sudden burst of pace. It worked! Wright was bamboozled and Cadamateri carried on into the area. Good chance this if he could hit it accurately enough across the keeper. No can do. Cadamateri’s low blast was slightly too central and pinged away off Raynor’s legs.

I don’t know whether anything dodgy was going on but we were a awarded a goal kick two minutes later when it should have been a Crawley corner, Rankine’s neat run not getting what it deserved. Nothing newsworthy about this aside from the fact it was the second time in the game it had happened. A Killeen shot had taken a marginal deflection wide earlier on and that had been given as a goal kick too. Needless to say, Crawley boss Steve Evans was not a happy bunny.

He was even less happy in the 42nd minute. A long run from Daniels ended with a short pass to Easton on the touchline. Easton crossed it high into the box and Cadamateri was at the back stick to just about keep the ball in by heading it in the air. Raynor opted not to come for it so Bridges was able to watch the ball come down and then hook for goal. He caught it nicely but not very hard, and Raynor saved. Following up from the angle however was Easton who rammed it home. Get in!

We might not have even reached half time yet but I was mightily relieved. With an under strength side and in a game we certainly hadn’t dominated, any lead was a good lead. We almost made it two in first half stoppage time. Bridges trapped the ball with his back to goal near the edge of the area. Wright then practically dragged him over, but rather than wait for the inevitable whistle, Gill thundered in and smacked one just over the top.

[ScottleeSV]

“That’s a good half’s work that, gentleman. Well done. No don’t look surprised! We’re under strength and we’re a little bit tired. It would be unfair of me to expect the same level of performance today. The only thing that matters is getting the three points. Remember, after today we’ve got a nice seven day rest”.

As we all wandered out for the second half, I could see that Evans had sent his scallywags out early. On the speaker system, Eminem was singing My Name Is. For some reason this briefly made me think how much I’m still a wannabe who hasn’t made it in the game. Okay, I’m at a biggish club. I also earn a fair whack. It’s still non-league though. People have still never heard of me.

The beginning of the second period could only be described as messy. Johnson surged down the left for Crawley and fed Weatherstone inside the area. From here the Crawley player sold Pilkington a dummy and made his way to the by-line just a yard or two from the near post. The pull back was so hard that it was whizzed past Brill and hit Rankine on the thigh just in front of the line. Brill then dived on the ball as Rankine tried to fashion a second bite at it. Lucky escape.

The Red Devils had clearly had a bollocking at half time. They were now taking the initiative instead of simply trying to contain. Forward they came again just a couple of minutes later. On this occasion Bulman and Crowell exchanged six short passes on the halfway line before the former fed Rankine. The striker knocked it first time out to Weatherstone who then pinged a ball across the six yard box. Just as before, the slightest of forward touches would have produced a goal. Nobody got one.

We seemed to be too leggy now to produce the same kind of free-flowing football. In the 59th minute, McCracken went route one instead. He humped it up towards Bridges who had Wright between him and the goal. Showing impressive control, the big man took the ball on his chest, swivelled his body one hundred and eighty degrees, and then volleyed left footed in the direction of the top left corner. A foot wide.

Just as I was wondering what to do about substitutes, Crawley went on the attack again. Killeen gathered on the corner edge of the penalty area and was shunted out wide by Daniels. His first attempt at a cross was charged down, albeit back into his path. His second attempt was a less powerful loft towards the back stick. Rankine rose with McCracken and won the battle. His header looped in the air back across the goal, and more crucially, over Brill. Into the bottom corner it fell.

Evans and his bench went bananas. I went to my potential substitutes. I told them all to warm up whilst I pondered who was going on and who wasn’t. Regardless of fatigue, this wasn’t a game I wanted to drop points in, not after we’d just achieved a three point lead at the top. Barely had any tracksuits come off though did we almost go behind; Weatherstone cut back inside Gnakpa and crossed one just over the predatory head of Rankine. The defence was nowhere. The crowd were getting visibly irritable.

On went Niven for Gill and Spencer for Taylor. Spencer’s arrival meant Cadamateri moving onto the right wing. The clock meanwhile had deceptively moved past the 70 minute mark. Buoyed by fresh impetus from the changes, we went back on the attack. Easton did some good work on the left before moving the ball sideways for Keane. He then attempted a swirling ball out to Cadamateri on the right. Giles got there first but could only head it to Gnakpa. The right back carried it forwards.

His eventual pass was a diagonal low ball to Bridges, who clipped a cheeky back-heeled pass into the area. This completely fooled the entire Crawley defence and whether deliberate or not put Spencer through on the keeper. He had to shoot first time and did. The shot was a blasted effort though which smacked against Raynor’s face and bounced away. Such was the power of the drive the keeper stayed down and induced Niven into putting the ball out so he could receive treatment.

I’d hoped this close run thing would inspire us into a grandstand finish. The next ten minutes however were mostly poor. We looked tired all over the pitch. The substitutes hadn’t helped us all that much. In the 79th minute I was forced into my third and final change when Daniels limped off with a spot of cramp. I didn’t have Richie Byrne on the bench (or indeed any other sod who could play left back), so Tony James came on to play in what was for him a wrong position.

We conjured half an opening on 82. The edge of the Crawley area suddenly because a hive of activity. About ten bodies – maybe five from either side –gravitated to that spot in a bid to win a loose ball. Niven won the raffle and twisted into the area. He might have been through here but for two red shirts either side of him. As a result, he was put off his shot and it turned into a weak effort which the keeper threatened to spill low to his left but quickly pounced on it.

As we pushed further forwards in the closing moments, we left ourselves open at the back. With injury time approaching, Easton lost out to Pinault and I sensed trouble. The Crawley player immediately sent Rankine through on goal without a single Luton player in miles. As Brill came out to narrow the angle, the striker steadied himself and opted for a low right footed side-foot into the bottom corner. Unfortunately for him he misjudged it and sent the ball inches wide. That could have been a disaster. As it was, we finished up with a point.

---------------

FINAL SCORE (att - 4211)

Luton Town 1 (Easton 42)

Crawley Town 1 (Rankine 65)

---------------

(other results)

Cambridge 2-1 AFC Wimbledon

Ebbsfleet 1-0 Burton

Grays 2-1 Kettering

Kidderminster 2-0 Stevenage

Macclesfield 0-2 Oxford

Mansfield 0-1 Histon

Northwich 0-1 Rushden

Salisbury 3-0 Woking

St Albans 1-0 Droylsden

Tamworth 0-1 Forest Green

York 1-1 Weymouth

-----------------

[font=Courier New][size=2]| Pos   | Inf   | Team          |       | Pld   | Won   | Drn   | Lst   | For   | Ag    | G.D.  | Pts   | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 1st   |       | Luton         |       | 29    | 20    | 6     | 3     | 63    | 31    | +32   | 66    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 2nd   |       | Rushden       |       | 29    | 20    | 5     | 4     | 64    | 28    | +36   | 65    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 3rd   |       | Grays         |       | 29    | 18    | 7     | 4     | 63    | 29    | +34   | 61    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 4th   |       | York          |       | 29    | 16    | 6     | 7     | 50    | 34    | +16   | 54    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 5th   |       | Salisbury     |       | 29    | 13    | 11    | 5     | 52    | 36    | +16   | 50    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 6th   |       | Oxford        |       | 29    | 14    | 6     | 9     | 59    | 37    | +22   | 48    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 7th   |       | Forest Green  |       | 29    | 13    | 8     | 8     | [/size][/font][font=Courier New][size=2]40    | 31    | +20   | 47    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 8th   |       | Stevenage     |       | 29    | 12    | 10    | 7     | 55    | 49    | +6    | 46    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 9th   |       | Histon        |       | 29    | 12    | 9     | 8     | 47    | 37    | +10   | 45    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 10th  |       | Crawley       |       | 29    | 13    | 6     | 10    | 48    | 45    | +3    | 45    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 11th  |       | Weymouth      |       | 29    | 11    | 11    | 7     | 47    | 35    | +12   | 44    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 12th  |       | Cambridge     |       | 29    | 11    | 9     | 9     | 42    | 39    | +3    | 42    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 13th  |       | Mansfield     |       | 29    | 10    | 10    | 9     | 42    | 48    | -6    | 40    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 14th  |       | AFC Wimbledon |       | 29    | 12    | 3     | 14    | 48    | 49    | -1    | 39    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 15th  |       | Kidderminster |       | 29    | 11    | 6     | 12    | 41    | 46    | -5    | 39    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 16th  |       | Burton        |       | 29    | 9     | 8     | 12    | 37    | 46    | -9    | 35    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 17th  |       | Woking        |       | 29    | 7     | 9     | 13    | 24    | 34    | -10   | 30    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 18th  |       | Ebbsfleet     |       | 29    | 7     | 8     | 14    | 26    | 43    | -17   | 29    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 19th  |       | Macclesfield  |       | 29    | 7     | 7     | 15    | 31    | 50    | -19   | 28    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 20th  |       | Kettering     |       | 29    | 6     | 8     | 15    | 38    | 50    | -12   | 26    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 21st  |       | Tamworth      |       | 29    | 5     | 5     | 19    | 24    | 49    | -25   | 20    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 22nd  |       | Northwich     |       | 29    | 4     | 8     | 17    | 25    | 54    | -29   | 20    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 23rd  |       | St Albans     |       | 29    | 5     | 5     | 19    | 26    | 63    | -37   | 20    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| 24th  |       | Droylsden     |       | 29    | 4     | 5     | 20    | 35    | 65    | -30   | 17    | [/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2]| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| [/size][/font]

[ScottleeSV]

27/01/10 - Hogging the bog

Luke likes it when Chantelle and I watch children’s programmes with him. My mind always strays though to whatever it is I’m most worried about at the time. At the moment that something was Keith and his threat. There were only eleven days to go.

“Send the blaster equipment down the main tunnels!” ordered one cartoon space trooper to another cartoon space trooper.

‘The main tunnels. What does that remind me of?’

“And then head straight for the vortex!”

“Yes sir!”

‘The Pain Tunnels'.

I suddenly had a wild idea. Excusing myself from the table I rushed upstairs to the bathroom, grabbing my mobile phone en route. Then I locked the door behind myself and sat on the wooden toilet cover.

Initially I dialled directory enquiries only to end the call after one ring. Aside from the fact it would be embarrassing as hell to ask a call centre operative for the contact details to a place called The Pain Tunnels, I wasn’t convinced the number would be listed anyway. Instead I called Garry. He was a former customer of the place. It stood to reason he would have the phone number.

He did. And he agreed to text it me too. Three minutes later I had the number in my possession. All that remained was to ring.

“The Pain Tunnels Charlene speaking” said the voice who answered. She sounded like the receptionist I’d seen when there in person.

“Hi. I need to find out if one of your clients has visited recently. Can you check your records and help me?”

“Unfortunately not. All of our client information is strictly confidential”.

She’d given me this claptrap last time. I’d got around it on that occasion by threatening to knock every single door down until I found who I was looking for. I could hardly make that same threat over the telephone.

“You don’t seem to understand” I replied, deciding to try something bold. “I represent Mr Jack Shandy. I presume you’ve heard of him?”

“Yes” Charlene answered, and suddenly there was a nervous edge to her voice that hadn’t been there before.

“Well I’m sure then I don’t need to tell you how disappointed he’d be if I report back to him you weren’t able to help”.

“Understood. What can I do to help?”

“Like I said, I need to know if one of your clients has made any recent visits. His name is Keith Keane. Can you check your records?”

“Okay. This might take a few minutes though. Can you wait?”

“Sure. I've got eleven days".

On the other end I heard a noise which was probably Charlene putting the phone down so she could go begin her search. Whether she could do this actually at her desk or if she needed to go somewhere else, who knew? Were records at The Pain Tunnels likely to be in paper files or computerized? Again, who knew? So long as I got what I needed though I didn’t much care.

Unlike when you call a court, or another football club, The Pain Tunnels doesn’t have a little tune that plays whilst you’re waiting. In Charlene’s absence I amused myself trying to imagine what songs they should get if they did decide to have music. The best I could come up with in the time I had were Just A Little Bit by Liberty X and Naughty Girl by Beyonce. Doubtless there are better ones.

The Jack Shandy thing was something I just came up with on the fly. It was a desperate tactic but not one without logic. The guy is a gangster after all, and gangsters often associate themselves with sleazy places like brothels and strip clubs. I’ve seen it in the movies. It wouldn’t surprise me if a guy like Shandy was secretly the boss of The Pain Tunnels, or at least someone with a vested interest in the place. I can imagine it being the sort of establishment Shandy’s goons go to wind down after a gangland hit.

“James?” Chantelle called, knocking on the bathroom door. “Are you on the phone in there?”

“Err yeah. I got a call from the office whilst I was sat on the loo”.

‘ - just in case you were worried I was making secret calls to a dominatrix club’.

“Okay. I’m going to make a coffee. Do you want one?”

“I’d love one. Cheers. I’ll meet you downstairs”.

“Okay. Don't be too long. Luke needs the loo now".

"Yeah I won't be long".

Barely had Chantelle’s feet touched the stairs did Charlene come back on the phone again.

“You said Keith Keane, right?”

“Yeah that’s right. Have you found anything?”

“No. There’s no Keith Keane on our records. Sorry”.

Dammit. All this for nothing! It looked like I was back to square one again. Oh well, it was worth a try.

“The only Keith we’ve got is a Keith Willacy”.

‘Then again – ‘

“Charlene” I replied with a big grin. “I do believe that’s the exact Keith I’m looking for”.

[ScottleeSV]

28/01/10 - Bob the builder

As I headed towards the communal offices after lunch today, I heard what sounded like a power tool in Bob’s office. My initial thought was that someone was trying to get into Dave’s old safe. As such I didn’t even bother knocking on the door before charging in to stop them.

I needn’t have bothered. Only Bob himself was inside the room, and he certainly wasn’t working on the safe. Instead he was chiselling away at the wooden edges of some kind of do-it-yourself bookcase. The safe was still in its same old position by the wall, unopened and mostly untouched since the days of the Wheelie.

“What are you doing?” I shouted over the noise

“Say what?” Bob asked, killing the power on his Black and Decker tool. He also set about removing the plastic goggles from around his eyes.

“I said what are you up to?”

“I’m making a trophy cabinet”.

“For us?”

“Of course it’s for us! I wouldn’t be making one for Watford would I?”

He had a point. As I slowly shut the door behind me, the acting chairman took his work gloves off and moved to the desk. There he uncapped a bottle of water and took a good long swig. There were bits of woodchip all over the floor from the work he’d been doing. It crunched beneath our feet with every step we made.

“Why didn’t you just buy a cabinet?” I queried. “You know, from Ikea or something?”

“Erica wouldn’t go for it. Besides, I don’t mind turning my hand. Gives me something to do in the moments there’s no work”.

“It looks more like a bookshelf than a cabinet. Shouldn’t there be a glass pane on the front?”

“There should, but that bit is beyond my skill set. I’m going to get a friend of mine to do that. I won’t be able to get him here until next week though”.

Waving away an offer of water with one hand, I ran the other slowly across the top of the wood. It had that crisp newness smell. My dad used to build things like this.

“Shame there’ll be no trophies to go in when it’s finished” I commented. “Not from my era anyway”.

“You’re wrong about that”.

Bob shuffled around his desk and pulled one of the drawers open. From within he produced a small trophy. It was about six inches big and two inches wide. Not immediately knowing what it was, I took it from him and read out loud the engraved writing on the smooth marble base.

“James Martin, Luton Town Football Club - Blue Square Premier Manager of the Month, September 2009. I thought I had the only one of this?”

“No, the club received about three replicas I think. That one can go in the cabinet when it’s finished”.

“What about stuff from before I became manager? I don’t know the club’s whole history off by heart but I know we won the league cup in the late eighties. Doubtless they’ll be loads of potential replicas from down the decades that should go in the cabinet, especially if we’re counting manager of the month awards”.

“Yes. No doubt. The trouble is though you’re holding in your hands the only replica I currently believe to be in the club’s possession. If we’re going to get older stuff from down the years then we might have write off to the FA or something and request new replicas, and that could take time and money. The money we don’t have”.

“I’ll have a word with Cyril and Lee, see if they can help”.

Feeling a proud tingle inside, I placed my award on the top of the unfinished cabinet and smiled. Bob also smiled. He sensed what it meant to me. September was quite a while ago now. At the time I won I didn’t really think about much. I was too wrapped up in the excitement of hitting top spot in the league.

My eyes drifted over to the safe. And then the smile faded. There was still a gun in there, and I still hadn’t decided what to do about it (if anything). How long was Bob going to leave that there by the wall?

And yet, another part of me didn’t want Bob to chuck it out. For as long as this safe was here I would always have access to a handgun. I hadn’t ever needed such a thing in over thirty one years of existing, but there always a first time for everything wasn't there? And that phone call from the other night was still heavy on my mind.

‘Maybe I should take the gun and stash it in Chantelle’s house, just in case the late night calls turns turn into something more sinister?’

Or was that just the embryo of yet another seriously bad idea on my part? Probably.

“Something on your mind?” Bob enquired.

“Err no. Just – just imagining how good it will feel if I could win the same award for January 2010. It won’t happen now though, not now we’ve lost to Rushden and drawn with Crawley this month”.

“Try for February then, James. Try for February”.

“Yeah I will do”.

‘The gun stays here. Don’t be an idiot’.

“I’m off, Bob” I told him, heading for the door. “Keep up the good work”.

“Will do. I’ll let you know when it’s finished”.

“Cool”.

[ScottleeSV]

30/01/10 - Levelling the playing field

The way Keane entered the room was an amusement in itself. He actually peered all the way around the door as if thinking I might have Nicky tied up and gagged in the corner ready for him to pick up and carry out to his car. Not so.

“Sit down, Keith”.

“I hope you’ve made some progress” he said, accepting the offer. “I don’t like missing X-box afternoon with the lads”.

“You can join them soon enough; and yes I do have progress”.

“Really? What?”

“Well, I’ve found a way to make you cease with your blackmailing forthwith. Would you like to see?”

Smiling in anticipation, I began drumming my fingers on the folder in front of me. It was like a miniature Mexican wave going from pinkie to forefinger. Keith’s eyes narrowed.

“What are you talking about?”

“What I am talking about? Well, why don’t we start with this?”

Not fully opening the folder I pulled a photograph out. It showed a naked Keith strapped a table and being presided over by a woman in leather.

“What? – How? – Where did?”

He was so exasperated he had to stand up again. Then, like a comedy drunk, he began pacing irregularly around the room, his eyes never more than six inches from the photo now clutched tightly in his grasp. It was as if he kept expecting the image to change.

“This is impossible!” he raged under his breath. “They never take pictures at The Pain Tunnels!”

“Actually they do, Keith. You just don’t notice it whilst you’re in there. That still shot came from a hidden camera in the top corner of the room. It’s there in case you the punter ever decide to turn the tables and beat up the girl. It’s happened before apparently. That’s why the cameras came in”.

“But how did you get – “

“The photo? I had to pay for it, naturally”.

Keith had heard enough. With strong hands he tore the photo to shreds right in front of my eyes. At first he dropped the pieces into my wastepaper basket. Then, realising this might not be the safest method of discarding them, he scooped up each scrap again and stuffed them into his jeans pocket.

“Now there’s no photo!” he said proudly. “And I still want Nicky!”

‘And then I want a chopper!’ I thought he might carry on saying. ‘It’s to land on the roof in twenty minutes!’

“Keith that was a black and white photocopy you just ripped up. I’ve got the original at home. Now sit back down”.

His cheeks puffing with rage (and worry), the Irishman did just that.

“Now here’s the deal” I continued. “You’re going to drop your threat to tell the office staff about our Henry discussions. In return, I am never going to show any of your teammates the photographs in this folder. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s blackmail!” he exploded.

“Well hey, genius, I guess that makes me just as bad as you then doesn’t it?!”

“I won’t let you do this” he said in a quieter tone, letting his shoulders droop. “You know what? Maybe I’ll just call your bluff? So the other players see a picture of me in that room. No big deal. They won’t think it’s that bad. I bet half the players in the squad would go to places like that if they had more balls”.

Tactically he had a point. No biggie though. I was prepared for this play. Sighing loudly, I opened the folder again and slid another picture out. This one was similar to before only the person with the whip was a man.

“I wonder, would the players be so understanding about this one?” I asked. Keith’s eyes froze in horror.

“That – that – that’s not fair!” he stuttered. “Abigail she – that’s the name of the woman in the other photo – she wasn’t there that day! None of the women were available that day! That’s why I had to use a – it doesn’t mean that – I mean – what difference does it make who’s doing the hitting, right?”

“Keith, don’t worry, I believe you. The trouble is; would the other guys believe you?”

He looked sideways and thought it over. As he did this, I pulled a third and final photograph from the folder. This one was overkill. But hey, I had to make sure.

“You know, Keith, as much I’m not into all that dominatrix stuff myself, I can at least understand the principal attraction behind it” I began, holding the third photo up so only I could see it. “This however I don’t understand. You’ll have to explain it to me. What exactly is the turn-on in dressing up like Little Red Riding Hood and then crawling around a concrete room being chased by a growling woman in a bear outfit?”

It happened very quickly. Keith snatched this latest photograph out of my hands and looked at it in extreme horror. Then he stood up and backed out of his chair, almost as if I’d shot him.

“You – this – it’s”.

Then he backed into the door and left the room.

I think I definitely had him onside now. My friendships were safe. It was just an inkling, you understand.