Pirates of the Northatlantic: The Rovers Return

[davidbr]

Brian was already there when Laura and I walked into the Bay Horse just after two, and I was pleased to see he was clutching a large glass of whisky – I just don’t trust those mineral water types, there’s something not quite right about a man that doesn’t drink. My head still felt like a fat bastard was using it as a trampoline, but I called in a couple of double Jack Daniels – hair of the dog and all that – and we made our way to a corner table.

“So, you finally fired Johnson’s worthless ass, then?â€

“He’s moved onto pastures new, if that’s what you mean. The Observer, if I recall.â€

Laura nearly choked on her drink; “W..What, THE observer? In London, like?â€

Ridgeway laughed out loud; “No love, the Bristol Observer!!†He obviously guessed from my expression that I’d never heard of it. “Local free rag, full of stories about grannies and adverts for dodgy conservatories.â€

I had to admit I was beginning to warm to this amiable Irishman. He turned back to me, and spoke the words we both needed to hear.

“Look, Johnson’s behaviour to Laura was totally unacceptable, but he’s gone now and with the reference I gave him he’d be lucky if he got a job writing Christmas cards. All I can do is say I’m sorry – can we wipe the slate clean?â€

I thought for a moment. Laura seemed happy enough with the apology, and that was good enough for me.

“OK, Brian, we seem to have two empty glasses here. Fill ‘em up, and we’ll call it quits. Deal?â€

“Deal!!†He looked across at Laura; “Oh, and your old job’s there for you, of course. If you want it, that is.â€

My heart sank as he said that; I’d kind of got used to having her around the office, her infectious smile always served to brighten up those days when things weren’t going quite so well, and if she went I’d miss her. But I knew how much she had dreamt of making it as a reporter, and I wasn’t about to stand in her way. I was in for a surprise, though..

“It’s a kind offer, Mr Ridgeway, but I’m happy where I am. I like working at Rovers, I like the idea of being my own boss, and somehow it just wouldn’t be the same. Besides, it’s nice coming to work every day with my boyfriend.â€

Ridgeway looked genuinely disappointed as he made his way over to the bar, I breathed a sigh of relief that I wasn’t about to lose my programme editor.

Then it hit me; she’d called me her boyfriend! I don’t know why that seemed strange, after all we’d been banging each other like a s**t-house door in a Force Ten for the best part of three months now, but somehow it, well, just did...

[davidbr]

Saturday 29th October 2005

Northampton vs. Bristol Rovers, League Two from Sixfields Stadium

Bris R (4-1-4-1); Jorg Stiel, Jean-Christophe Cesto, Adam Green, Ryan Hartslief, Souleymane Bamba, Johannes Djourou, Jeroen van Staveren, Sebastian Larsson, Dean West, Franklin Agustin Salas, Francesco Milano (Gary Hamilton 84)

I was more than a bit nervous ahead of this one; Northampton were 4th in the league with a solid home record and I knew all too well that a second defeat in a week could see all our good work this season start to unravel. I needn’t have worried, though; the change of surroundings seemed to have done my players the world of good, and the nervy opening of Wednesday night was replaced with some slick, confident movement that forced the home side onto the back foot right from the start.

Franklin Salas came closest early on with a 30-yard drive that grazed the crossbar and Johannes Djourou brought a top-drawer save out of keeper Lee Harper with a fine diving header as we began to pile the pressure on. Finally though, after thirty-nine minutes all that pressure paid off as my biggest gamble of the day paid off in some style. Francesco Milano was still nowhere near fully fit and didn’t even start training again until yesterday, but he was desperate to play and so I threw him in. And, after a sublime through ball from Dean West, it was Milano who shrugged off any rustiness to outpace Sean Dyche and slam the ball past keeper Harper from 12 yards out; it was an excellent finish, and already all the anger of Wednesday was beginning to drift away.

If those memories were fading after Milano’s opener, they were positively away into the distance as he repeated the trick three minutes later. This time Johannes Djourou intercepted a misplaced Northampton pass in midfield, his vision picked out Franklin Salas wide on the right and Salas’ cross was met with a stunning volley by Milano from the edge of the area; if there’s a better goal in League Two this season, I can’t wait to see it!

Northampton, and their fans, looked utterly stunned by now; and my afternoon would soon get even better. Salas was by now relentless in his tormenting of veteran Gianpiero Maini in the middle of the park, Maini may have once long ago won a cap for Italy but he was light years off the pace as my Ecuadorian star roamed forward in first half stoppage time. Salas found van Staveren, van Staveren found Dean West and West found Milano in space just inside the area. Milano’s curling strike beat Harper all ends up only for it to cannon back off the inside of the post, but luck was on our side as it rebounded off the back of the helpless keeper and into the Northampton net! Despite Francisco’s claims it’d have to go down as an own goal by the keeper, but I didn’t give a flying frig about that; in a game where the bookies had us down as losers, we were three up at half time and cruising!

Half Time: Northampton 0, Bristol Rovers 3 (Milano 39, 42, Harper og 45)

There wasn’t really much to say in the dressing room after that, I spent the interval grinning like a Cheshire cat on drugs and the lads were sent out with orders not to let it slip. Not that there was ever much chance of that happening; Northampton looked a beaten side, and even with us adopting a more cautious approach they were struggling to get out of their own half. Their Egyptian international midfielder Osama Nabih did at least try to inspire his team-mates with a few tricky runs and a couple of long-range strikes, but I moved fast to stick Djourou on him as a man-marker and whatever Nabih’s strengths may be shooting ain’t one of them – his attempts posed more threat to the floodlights than they did to Jorg Stiel in goal.

Like I said my approach had been to shut up shop, memories of that Boston debacle still loomed large and the last thing I wanted was a nervy finish; though Franklin Salas was desperately unlucky not to get his own name on the scoresheet when his 35-yard curler cannoned back off the angle of post and bar. Milano not surprisingly looked very tired and didn’t complain when I replaced him with Gary Hamilton late on – Milano earned a deserved standing ovation from the Pirates fans – and in the end we saw out the remaining minutes for a very comfortable and very impressive win.

Full Time: Northampton 0, Bristol Rovers 3 (Milano 39, 42, Taylor og 45)

[davidbr]

Monday, 31st October 2005

“Teddy, you f**king seen this?â€

I’d just come through the door of our office, and Ratty was standing in front of the fax machine with a sheet of paper in his hand and a worried look on his face. He handed me the page, and I just laughed. We’d just received our first piece of hate mail! Ratty didn’t seem to appreciate my amusement.

“I don’t see what’s so bloody funny, Teddy. And how the hell did they get our fax number?â€

“Probably by reading the back of the match programme! Come off it, mate, all managers get this kind of stuff; I bet if you read Mourinho’s e-mail you’d see he gets more death threats than Salman Rushdie. I’m just surprised we ain’t had more of ‘em!â€

I was also surprised that Ratty had taken it so seriously. But the ringing of the phone heralded more important business; it was Gary Smith, my super-agent, and he brought with him good news. A couple of weeks back he’d tipped me off about an Irish striker, Eamonn Zayed, who’d just rejected a new contract at Eircom League side Bray Wanderers, and so would be available on a Bosman at the end of December. I’d told Gary to do the business, and Zayed had wasted little time in accepting my offer; he’s only 22, has already got two full caps for Ireland, and he’ll be a Rovers player on January 1st. It seemed, though, that wasn’t all Gary wanted to talk to me about.

“Teddy, mate, you ever been to Rio?â€

Why – you lined up Ronaldinho’s brother for me or something?â€

Gary laughed. “I’d be lucky to get you his f**king granny! No, I’ve been offered four tickets for the England game next month only I can’t go, got a bloody conference in London and I can’t get out of it. Seems a shame for them to go to waste though.â€

Hmm, sunshine, blue skies.. if I needed any convincing, the sound of the rain lashing against the office window just about did the trick. I put the phone down and turned to speak to Ratty.

“You fancy a few days in Brazil next month? Gary’s got seats for the England game...â€

“Do bears s**t in the woods?!â€

I’ll take that as a yes! Sure beats watching the game on the big screen down the Bay Horse, at any rate.

[davidbr]

Tuesday November 1st 2005

Tuesday morning; the rain was still coming down as hard as ever, the wind was howling in from the west, and it was cold enough to freeze the ******** off a brass barnacle. In short, not the sort of weather anyone wanted to spend out on the training ground. The verdict from me, Paul and Tony was unanimous; today, the players could have a day off!

So it was back up to the office, with Laura, Ratty, a hot fire and a glass of Jack Daniels for company. Brian Ridgeway, the Evening Post editor, was coming in later on; he wanted to introduce me to the new reporter who’d be covering our matches this season (fella by the name of Joe, apparently); but right now the phone was ringing.

It was Ian Atkins, manager of Carlisle, and he was interested in my moaning, unwanted striker Junior Agogo. Atkins had spoken to me about it the day after I’d first stuck Agogo on the transfer list and I’d been fully prepared to let him go for nothing, but there was just something about Atkins’ attitude that really wound me up and so I’d found myself demanding a fee of £80,000! But I knew full well that Carlisle didn’t have that kind of cash floating around, and so I was preparing to swallow my pride in order to clear Agogo’s useless arse from my wage bill. It turns out I didn’t have to, though;

“I’ve spoken to my chairman, and the highest we can go to is £45k. It’s a take it or leave it offer, Mr Hamilton, and I need an answer now.â€

I sure didn’t need asking twice, and it seems Agogo didn’t either; within half an hour I had a call from his agent saying the Ghanaian striker had agreed terms on the deal! It’ll go through on January 1st, and it promises to be a long hard New Year for Junior – Carlisle are rock bottom of the Football League at the moment!

[davidbr]

Brian Ridgeway, the Post editor, arrived in the office a little after two, and greeted me with a warm handshake, Laura with a peck on the cheek and the bottle of Scotch on the table with a broad grin! I was surprised to find him alone, though.

“Thought you’d have company, Brian? Where’s this Joe you wanted me to meet?â€

“Ah, she’ll be right up. Had a bit o’ trouble parkin’ the car, y’see.â€

She??!!; for some reason it’d never even occurred to me that “Jo†might be a girl! Just then, right on cue, the door swung open, and in she came.

“Ah, perfect timin’. Teddy, meet Joanne Taylor, the risin’ star of our newsdesk. Jo, you’ll know Mr. Hamilton, of course. Now I’ve got to be on me’ way, I’ll see you later, Jo. Have fun!â€

I’ve never been much good at guessing ages and it seemed a bit rude to ask, but I’d say Joanne was in her late twenties, slim with shoulder-length brown hair, and while she was by no means a classic beauty there was definitely a certain something about her.

As Ratty would later put it, he “wouldn’t say no!†– though thinking back to our King’s Lynn days Ratty wouldn’t have said no to any female with a pulse, and he’d probably have compromised over the pulse… Anyhow, right then she looked a bit nervous, and I did my best to switch back into professional mode.

“Hi, Joanne, nice to meet you. This is Ra.., er, Richard, our chairman, and this is Laura, she’s our programme editor. Paul and Tony, our coaches, have left for the day; training’s finished for the day on account of the weather.â€

[davidbr]

She seemed a bit disappointed she wouldn’t get to meet any of the players, but she was nothing if not well prepared and produced a notebook from her handbag containing a long list of questions. I was a bit guarded with my answers, after all I still wasn’t too sure what to make of the girl yet, but she was pleasant enough to talk to and before we knew it an hour had flashed by in no time at all.

“Thankyou for your time, Mr. Hamilton, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. Oh, and good luck for the Cup game on Saturday.â€

“You’re welcome, Jo. Actually, we’re about done here for the day, and we’re off to the pub to watch the Chelsea game on Sky (Chelsea were up against Barcelona tonight in the Champions League). You’re welcome to join us if you’re free.â€

As I said that I noticed Laura shoot me a glare; she’d barely moved from her seat all the time Jo had been in the office. Surely she wasn’t jealous; it’d only been a friendly invite? Whatever, Jo clearly noticed the animosity too, because she made her excuses, shook hands with Ratty and made her way to her car.

It turned out to be quite a game, and quite a night for Jose Mourinho’s ]Chelsea. Two up inside half an hour in the Nou Camp through Eidur Gudjohnsen and Michael Essien, Barca briefly had hope when Mark Van Bommel pulled one back with a quarter of an hour to go but Hernan Crespo’s late penalty, after Carles Puyol had been sent off for a professional foul, sealed a famous win for the Special One and his charges.

But whatever the atmosphere may have been in the Barca dressing room, it had nothing on Laura’s in Hogshead. Something had quite clearly upset her, and, after I’d tried for the third time to get an answer to the question of whether she’d like another drink, I’d just about had enough.

“Look, love, just what the f**k’s the matter with you today? You scowled all bloody afternoon and you’ve barely said a word to me since we’ve been here.â€

“Well maybe I wasn’t too keen on you flirting with that tart right in front of my bloody face! If you wanted to ask her out, you could at least have done it when I wasn’t looking.â€

“Ask her out?? What the hell are you talking about, I was just being friendly, that’s all!â€

“You looked more than friendly from where I was sitting!â€

I slammed my pint glass down on the table, loud enough for everyone around to stop what they were doing and stare.

“Look, I’ve had just about enough of this jealousy bulls**t, I can’t handle it. I have to meet people, that’s part of my job, and if you’re going to get into a p**s every time I talk to a girl then, well, maybe you’re with the wrong person.â€

“Maybe I am!â€

With that, she stormed out of the pub. Even though I desperately wanted to, I didn’t go after her; I was just totally confused. I didn’t think I’d been any more than friendly with Joanne earlier on, and I’d never had Laura down as the jealous type; I thought the reason we were good together was because we both thought the same way.

Ratty had taken refuge from the atmosphere at our table and had watched the game stood at the bar, but he came over to offer a few wise words.

“Look, Teddy, don’t worry about it, she’ll calm down in the morning, Come on, let’s get another pint in.â€

“Forget the f**king pint, mine’s a Jack Daniels. Large.†I had a feeling I’d be getting through a fair few of them tonight!

[davidbr]

Saturday 5th November, 2005

Darlington vs. Bristol Rovers, FA Cup 1st Round from the Darlington Football Stadium

Bris R (4-1-4-1); Jorg Stiel, Jean-Christophe Cesto, Adam Green, Ryan Hartslief, Souleymane Bamba, Johannes Djourou, Jeroen van Staveren, Sebastian Larsson, Dean West, Franklin Salas, Francesco Milano (Gary Hamilton 64)

I’d made no secret that the FA Cup wasn’t a priority for us this season – after all we weren’t going to win it and we weren’t desperate for cash either – but since we’d already lost to Darlington in the league part of me was keen for revenge. Plus after the week I’d just had I was keen to concentrate on football for a change. We’d had contrasting fortunes since that warm August day and the home side were currently 13th in the League Two table, but as the cliché goes League form counts for sod all in the cup and it was Darlington who made the brighter start.

Ten minutes in they were rewarded for their adventure with the opening goal, though it owed more to some dreadful defending from my back four than to any individual brilliance from Darlo. Oliver Heald and Simon Johnson, the former Leeds man, combined well in midfield and Heald’s pass released Neil Scally down the right flank.

He rather sliced his cross and it should have been a bread and butter clearance for Cesto, but my Frenchman missed it completely and though Ryan Hartslief made a desperate lunge it was Guylain Ndumbu-Nsungu, the man so good they named him twice, who slammed home the loose ball and left the home fans dreaming of Round Two.

The rest of the half did little to quell those dreams; Dean West and Franklin Salas were off-colour and it showed, without them we just didn’t have enough flair in the middle of the park and so were reduced to humping long balls towards Milano, which the Darlington defence swept up with little difficulty. It was the home side that led at half time, and I couldn’t deny they’d deserved it.

Half Time: Darlington 1 (Ndumbu-Nsungu 10), Bristol Rovers 0

[davidbr]

Mindful of my vow to cut back on the dressing-room rollockings I left it to Tony to issue some words of encouragement in the interval, but whatever he said didn’t seem to have worked as within a minute of the restart Darlington should have led by two.

It was real route one stuff too, defender Joey Hutchinson won the ball off Dean West just outside his own 18-yard box, he hoisted it forward and our attempt to play the offside trap was undone somewhat by Ryan Hartslief standing still as if he was fossilised. The upshot was Ndumbu-Nsungu was through on goal with a golden chance for a second… but thankfully for me and for Hartslief our blushes were spared as the young Congolese bottled it and blasted high over Jorg Stiel’s crossbar.

My vow of silence was quickly forgotten as I let loose a volley of four-letter expletives that earned me a warning from the fourth official and made a little old lady in the front row blush like a beetroot. But, the good old-fashioned abuse seemed to do the trick as straight away we enjoyed our best spell of the match. Franklin Salas was the catalyst, he dropped deep to pick up the ball, left Heald and Neil Scally for dead in midfield and tried to slip a pass in for Milano. True it was a bit heavy, but I was pretty sure a Milano on top of his game would have got there with something to spare – today, my Italian stallion looked well off the pace though and defender Joey Hutchinson won the race to clear by a few yards. Not long after Salas again gave David Hodgson’s side a brown-trouser moment with a 20-yard drive that brushed the right-hand post, but our quarter hour’s dominance had brought bugger all to the scoresheet. And that’d prove to be fatal to our afternoon.

Six minutes past the hour Johannes Djourou failed to deal with a hopeful punt from the keeper and straight away we were in trouble. The ball came out to Carlos Logan on the left, he had too much pace for a tired Souleymane Bamba and looked set to send in the cross. Instead, though, he looked up, spotted Simon Johnson in space on the eighteen-yard line and slid the ball across. Johnson’s Darlington’s top scorer so far this season, and he showed why Leeds had once rated him as a future star with an unerring finish low to Jorg Stiel’s left. A moment of class from the 23-year old, and unless we could find something similar of our own our Cup story was going to be a very short one.

We couldn’t, I decided to bring on Gary Hamilton for Milano a few minutes after the second goal and the Northern Ireland man repaid my faith by blasting a sitter over the bar from eight yards out, but even if he’d scored I don’t think it would have mattered. Our Cup adventures were over for this season, and while I’d be lying if I said I was as upset as I’d be if this was a league game it was worrying we’d surrendered so tamely to a side closer to the bottom than the top of our division. But I had other things on my mind right then.

Full Time: Darlington 2 (Ndumbu-Nsungu 10, Johnson 66), Bristol Rovers 0

[davidbr]

“I’ve had just about enough for today, now let’s get changed, get back on the coach and get the hell out of here.â€

The lads stared at me from the benches in silence; I guessed they’d been expecting both barrels after our tame cup exit, and on any normal day they’d have probably got them, but right then I just felt totally and utterly drained. And there’d be no prizes for guessing why.

Yep, the “Laura situation†was really starting to get me down. We hadn’t spoken, or exchanged much more than a glance, since she’d walked out after the Barca game on Tuesday night; in the end the atmosphere in the office had got so bad that I’d just avoided going in there wherever possible.

I’d taken every training session (usually I leave the bulk of them to the coaches), gone off on “scouting trips†around the local non-league clubs that’d usually end in me propping up a bar somewhere, anything to avoid being around the place. I knew it’d had an effect on Tony and Paul, and after today’s performance I realised that maybe it was starting to affect the team as well. I needed to sort it out; thing was, I didn’t really know how I wanted it sorted out.

In the past if a girl had shown the slightest hint of jealousy I’d have been out of there at the speed of light; and they’d usually had bloody good reason to be jealous. But Laura was somehow different; if I’m honest, I just didn’t want to lose her.

It took us five and a half hours to make it back to Bristol, and it was gone midnight before I finally climbed the stairs to the (empty) flat. Ratty was out; his love life was in a healthier state than mine, and he’d missed today’s trip to take Gemma away for the weekend. Right then loneliness suited me fine; I poured a large Jack Daniels, stuck on Sky Sports News, and fully expected to still be slumped there come the morning. I was wrong.

[davidbr]

I must have drifted off into a kind of trance, because the next thing I was aware of was the buzzing of our intercom system - a glance at my watch told me it was almost a quarter past one and I had no idea who could possibly want me at that hour. Sleepily, I answered it anyway; I’d soon be wide-awake again!

“Hello, Teddy, guess who?â€

I didn’t need to guess – I’d heard that voice often enough. Sarah Morley, the one-time (all time?) love of my life. I hadn’t heard from her since that night Ratty had sent her away from the Horn & Trumpet with a flea in her ear, but I still thought about her often; and now here she was at my door in the middle of the night...

“Well, are you going to let me in or not?â€

I wasn’t really sure what was going on, but let her in I did. I’d clearly been raining hard out, and with her damp clothes clinging to her curves I was reminded, if I needed a reminder, how stunningly beautiful she really was; suddenly I was 16 again, and back in that pub in King’s Lynn where we’d met for the very first time.

“Er, how did you..†She came over to me, put her finger to my lips, and kissed me.

“Sshh, I didn’t come here for small talkâ€

With that, she took me by the hand, and led me off towards the bedroom…

[davidbr]

Sunday, 6th November 2005

You know the strange feeling you sometimes get the morning after a night out, the one where you’re sure you did something you probably shouldn’t have done, only you can’t remember exactly what it was? Well, half-asleep in bed, that was exactly what I was feeling then; until, that was, I sat bolt upright – it hadn’t been a dream!

It also wasn’t the morning after; a glance at the bedside clock showed we’d edged well into afternoon. Sarah had gone, she’d left a note; it said simply “thanks for last night, call meâ€, followed by a mobile telephone number and three kisses. I had some serious thinking to do!

Ratty wasn’t due back from his dirty weekend until Monday, and I didn’t especially want to stay in the flat on my own all day, so a quick shower and a shave later it was off down to Hogshead to take in the afternoon’s Premiership action over a few thought-invoking pints of Hooegarden. Walter Pandiani’s 41st-minute strike was more than enough to earn Steve “Big Nose†Bruce bragging rights over David “F**k Knows†O’Leary, and Birmingham victory at Aston Villa in the second city derby, and as the two managers shook hands at full time my own mind had definitely become a darn sight clearer.

Like I said, Sarah had been my first love, and that’s not something you forget easily. I’d no idea what had made her come to the flat last night, but what I did know was that somehow it just didn’t feel the same. I’d always have a soft spot for her, but too much had gone on between us for me to ever seriously consider going back there. I wasn’t the same person I’d been on the day she’d left me, and I knew what I had to do. I pulled the note she’d left me from my pocket, reached for my phone, and shakily began to tap out a message on the screen.

If you asked me for the exact words of that message I wouldn’t be able to tell you, and part of me did feel bad for ending things in such a cowardly way. But at least this way there was no chance of me changing my mind, and as the “message sent†confirmation flashed up it was like a ten-ton weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

Draining the dregs of my pint, I sighed and headed for the bar. Tomorrow would be another day.

[davidbr]

Monday 7th November 2005

“Look, Paul and me can handle things down here. You’ve got more important stuff to take care of up there.â€

Tony nodded in the direction of the office window, and I knew he was right; I couldn’t stay down on the training ground forever. The next month would be massive in terms of our season, and I couldn’t afford to be anything less than 100% focussed on the job in hand. Laura and I had to talk.

Besides, I was hardly in any position to take the moral high ground; we’d fallen out because she’d accused me of something I hadn’t done, then I’d gone out and done exactly what it was she’d accused me of. Not that she knew that, of course…

“Sweetheart, we’ve got to sort this out. This is silly, we can’t..â€

“Teddy, wait. I know, I shouldn’t have over-reacted like I did. It’s just, well, when I saw the way you were with that reporter, and I thought back to how we first met, and.. I guess what I’m trying to say is I know it’s part of your job, and I’m sorry. Am I forgiven?â€

I smiled. “Yeah, I guess so! Look, I’ve never pretended to be anything I’m not. I’m not a saint, and I’m not Mother Teresa’s brother. I haven’t just got a few skeletons in my closet, I’ve got a whole f**king cemetery’s worth, but I can’t change the past any more than you can; all I can do is try and put it behind me. I like you, a lot, and I think we’re good together, but this isn’t going to work out unless you can accept that.â€

“Christ, Teddy, don’t be so hard on yourself! I don’t want a saint, I want you! Whatever you are, that’s what I like, because, well, I love you.â€

There’d have been a time when, if I’d heard those three words, I’d have escaped at a speed Linford Christie would have been proud of. But there was no point in denying it any longer, I’d fallen for this girl big time. She was pretty, intelligent, fun to be with, and the night I’d spent with Sarah only reminded me what I was in danger of missing out on. I took a deep breath.

“Erm, I.., I love you too, Laura. So, are you still on for Rio next week?â€

“Just you try and stop me, you daft sod!â€

There, I’d said it, and as I held her close it really did feel right. I just hoped she’d never find out exactly how I’d spent my Saturday night…

[davidbr]

Friday, November 11th 2005

“It’s not serious, Teddy, just a bit of bruising so Kitey says. But he’s not going to make it in time for tomorrow.â€

That was Tony, confirming to me that I’d have to do a bit of a reshuffle ahead of tomorrow’s long haul north to Bury.

Jean-Christophe Cesto had suffered a nasty tumble in training yesterday, at first we thought he’d be OK but this morning his ankle had turned a nasty shade of purple, and although the X-ray had come back negative our physio Phil Kite had ruled him out of tomorrow’s game.

I already knew I’d be without Franklin Salas – he jetted off to Quito in the early hours to join up with the Ecuador squad – but with Kipulo suspended I’m very short of options at the back. I could shift Souleymane Bamba out to the right and bring in Mark Earnshaw to partner Hartslief at the back, but I’m keen for my first choice pair of centre-backs to gain an understanding and they’re not going to do that if I keep chopping and changing.

So, tomorrow will instead see a recall for Aaron Lescott from the reserves, and he’ll take Cesto’s place in a like-for-like swap. Aaron’s already been told he’ll be leaving the club in the summer if not before, but he’s a model professional and I know he’ll give his all for the cause.

[davidbr]

Saturday 12th November 2005

Bury vs. Bristol Rovers, League Two from Gigg Lane

Bris R (4-1-4-1); Jorg Stiel, Aaron Lescott, Adam Green, Souleymane Bamba, Ryan Hartslief, Johannes Djourou, Jeroen van Staveren, Sebastian Larsson, Mark Worthington, Dean West, Francesco Milano

After the Darlington debacle I was desperate to get the team back to winning ways, and with Bury lying 19th in the table this should have been the perfect opportunity. But the hosts seemed to have been stirred by the realisation that the Conference was getting ever closer, and they surprised us with a bright, energetic start.

Five minutes in Jorg Stiel was forced to pull off a fine save to deny Bury’s leading scorer Michael Tipton, and Tipton again came close not long after with a glancing header from a free kick that drifted not more than a yard or so wide. On the sidelines it was clear to me where the problem lay; Aaron Lescott had won the nod to replace the suspended Cesto at right-back, but it’s not his preferred position and to say he looked like a fish out of water would be a grave insult to dry fishes everywhere. Bury were causing havoc down the right, Lescott had to come off, but before I could make the change disaster struck.

Brian Barry-Murphy picked the ball up just inside our half and played a cleverly disguised ball down the right to the waiting Tom Youngs. Once again Aaron Lescott was caught hopelessly out of position, Youngs made his way into the box, and as Lescott lunged in he sent Youngs flying to the ground. It was a clear penalty, Lescott was last man and so had to go, and Youngs dusted himself down to give Jorg Stiel no chance with the spot-kick. We were a man down, and now we were also a goal down.

Our response, though, was immediate. With Salas living it up in Quito, I’d been looking for Dean West to come up with the creative spark and he didn’t disappoint. Straight from the restart Johannes Djourou found Sebastian Larsson, the Swede spotted West in space thirty yards out and West stunned the home crowd with a magnificent curling strike that flew just inside Craig Dootson’s left hand post - less than a minute had passed, and we were back on level terms.

It was us who came closest to taking a half-time lead when Dootson was forced into action to turn away another long-range West strike, but it was all square at the break and I had to admit that, West’s moment of magic aside, we just hadn’t been at the races today.

Half Time: Bury 1 (Youngs pen 24), Bristol Rovers 1 (West 25)

[davidbr]

Thanks to Lescott’s red card there wasn’t a great deal I could do to change things, so it was an identical ten who took to the field under orders to, as I’d put it, “put some f**king effort inâ€. And while I couldn’t fault us for effort after the break, luck just wasn’t on our side.

Dean West was the first to have cause to curse the star he’d been born under, his fine low drive thudded back off the inside of the post with the keeper beaten all ends up, and not long after Mark Worthington’s powerful header was met by a stunning save from Craig Dootson, a keeper clearly in form.

Dootson had obviously been eating his spinach today - he also denied West and Larsson with almost super-human saves - Ryan Hartslief thumped a free header against the bar from a corner, and as chances continued to go begging I just got the feeling this wasn’t going to be our day.

Then, in the 75th minute, Larsson wriggled free down the left, got to the byline and sent in the cross. Francesco Milano, who’d done bugger all up until then, looked set to pounce, when Bury defender Dave Challinor quite clearly diverted the ball away from him with his arm. It was a blatant penalty, and on the bench Tony and I had already started celebrating before we realised the blind ****ing referee hadn’t given it!

I was absolutely incensed and called the officials all the names under the sun, and probably a few more besides as well, Milano was booked for dissent for telling the referee exactly what he thought of him, but when all was done and dusted the decision would stand and Bury had got out of jail scot-free.

The sense of injustice clearly affected our performance for the rest of the game, not to mention the fact that with a man short tiredness was beginning to tell. When Mark Worthington ballooned his shot over the bar from 12 yards out with acres of space around him my hands went to my head; this just wasn’t meant to be. 1-1 was how it finished,

Bury were delighted with the draw but we should have beaten them today and I bloody knew it. Bastards!

Full Time: Bury 1 (Youngs pen 24), Bristol Rovers 1 (West 25)

[davidbr]

“Look, don’t get too down about this one, I know you did your best. These sort of games are just like that sometimes.â€

I was bitterly disappointed with the result, but there wasn’t a lot of point in getting angry. We’d played pretty well, we’d been by far the better side, we should have had at least one penalty and on any normal day we’d have won it by three or four goals. Still didn’t change the fact that it was two points dropped though.

I turned to Tony. “If I ever meet that f**king ref again I just hope I’ve got a baseball bat in my back pocket! Anyway, what was the score in Vienna?â€

“1-1. Crespo scored for the Argies, Andy Johnson equalised for us.â€

I guess that wasn’t a bad result, England had been without both Wayne Rooney and Michael Owen through injury and they’d been up against an Argentina side who were pretty much at full strength. England’s pre-World Cup roadshow, of course, continues on to Rio on Wednesday night, and we’d all be there - Ratty, Laura and I fly out tomorrow afternoon.

The Premiership managers, Arsene Wenger especially, had been furious at Eriksson for dragging their players half way around the world at a key point in the season - I’d spoken to Arsene in the week when he’d called for a progress report on his two loanees, and he’d ranted on for a good ten minutes about it - but as for me, I was just looking forward to a few days’ break in the sun!

[davidbr]

Friday 18th November 2005

I know everything has to come to an end, and we were all shattered after the journey back (we made it back to Bristol at about half ten tonight!), but what a time it was!

As for the football, the match itself was less than impressive; England were without Rooney, Owen and Lampard, it was a second-string Brazil line-up at best (no Ronaldinho, no Ronaldo, and no Adriano), and it finished 0-0 - Middlesbrough’s Stewart Downing won man of the match, but he also missed the best chance of the game when he skied a clear opening from twelve yards high, wide and ugly.

But of course none of us really cared about the performance; there were the best part of 85,000 inside the Maracana, and the atmosphere was like nothing I’d ever been lucky enough to experience in my playing days. Sure, in internationals I’d run out at the San Siro and the Bernabeu, and there’d been good sized crowds at both, but we’d lost heavily both times and at that time the major European powers saw Wales a bit like a walker sees a horsefly, something to be swatted and move on. Not for the first time, I found myself thinking back to what might have been.

But if our Brazilian adventure wasn’t about the football, it sure wasn’t about regrets either. Our hotel was no more than a hefty stone’s throw from the beach at Ipanema, the weather was warm and so the days we spent on the beach topping up the tan, and the nights were lost in a steady stream of caipirinhas in the bars and clubs of Rio.

No, we’d had a great time, and even Wales managing to lose 2-0 in Tunisia couldn’t dampen my spirits; it did suggest though that maybe my optimism after the Azerbaijan game was somewhat premature.

As for us, we’ve got a must-win game at home to Macclesfield to prepare for, Tony and Paul have handled the fort admirably while I’ve been away and, after Cesto passed a fitness test, we’ll be at full strength.

[davidbr]

Saturday 19th November 2005

Bristol Rovers vs. Macclesfield, League Two from the Memorial Stadium

Bris R (4-1-4-1); Jorg Stiel, Jean-Christophe Cesto, Adam Green (Kipulo 82), Ryan Hartslief, Souleymane Bamba, Johannes Djourou, Jeroen van Staveren, Sebastian Larsson, Dean West, Franklin Salas, Francesco Milano (Gary Hamilton 82)

It was strange to think it’d been almost a month since we last ran out on home turf, and I was keen to banish any lingering memories of that 3-1 collapse to Lincoln way back on October 26th. I’d never get a better chance to do it - Macclesfield were third from bottom, the bookies favourites for relegation and so far hadn’t managed even a point from their travels this season.

We started positively, Franklin Salas didn’t seem to have been unduly affected by his marathon travels over the last week and he came close to giving us an early lead with a low drive that fizzed a yard or so wide. Francesco Milano was the next one to make the Mem crowd gasp; his header from van Staveren’s corner was no more than a half chance at best, but he still got it on target, got power behind it, and keeper Tim Deasy had to make a very very good save.

Macclesfield weren’t totally without talent, though; up front they boasted an international striker in the form of Chris Killen, the New Zealander had scored for his country in midweek and he was the first visiting player to bring a save out of Jorg Stiel - his low shot lacked power, though, and was bread and butter stuff for a keeper of Stiel’s experience.

But, despite dominating possession and carving out several chances, it was the same story that’d plagued us of late; we just couldn’t get the bloody ball in the net, and as half time approached the scoresheet remained as blank as David Beckham’s mind.

Half time: Bristol Rovers 0, Macclesfield 0

[davidbr]

I wasn’t unhappy with the performance so far and told the lads just that in the dressing room, but we also needed more options in the final third and though I didn’t want to make a tactical change, I did instruct West and Larsson to get forward and support Milano a lot more than they’d done so far. It’d leave us more open at the back, but since the visitors had shown all the bite of a toothless sheep I considered that a risk worth taking.

Finally, after 48 scoreless minutes, we got the goal I felt our dominance surely deserved. Franklin Salas made another of his probing runs down the right, defenders went to him and that left Dean West with acres of space on the edge of the area. West’s powerful effort was palmed out by Deasy, but this time Lady Luck smiled on us as Sebastian Larsson, doing just what I’d told him to, was on hand to slam the rebound into the empty net.

From the cheers that went around the stadium you’d have thought we’d just taken the lead in the Champions League final, not against a crap League Two side, but the relief was there for all to see. Maybe it was more luck than anything else, but I mentally congratulated myself for the instructions I’d given to the Swede at half time, my gamble had paid off in style.

Now it was just a matter of making sure we didn’t do anything daft, Macclesfield had shown little to suggest they’d be capable of creating anything themselves and that sure didn’t change. I wasn’t too worried about getting the second goal, though the last minutes would have passed quicker had the linesman’s flag not denied Milano (it was the correct decision, though) or if Gary Hamilton hadn’t blasted wide from ten yards when it seemed easier to score.

Not to worry, though, all I really cared about today was getting three points and we’d done exactly that. The match video may not be a best seller, but it was a job well done.

Full time: Bristol Rovers 1 (Larsson 48), Macclesfield 0

[davidbr]

“Seb, I think there’s someone here who wants a wordâ€

The look on scorer Sebastian Larsson’s face, as the dressing room door opened and Arsene Wenger walked in, was absolutely priceless! Arsene calls me fairly regularly for a progress report on his two on-loan youngsters, but it’d be fair to say it took me by surprise when he called yesterday to ask if it’d be OK to come down in person.

Of course he was most welcome, and it clearly meant a lot to Larsson to receive a few words of praise from the Arsenal manager. He made sure not to miss out Johannes Djourou, either; Djourou had been a rock in the middle of the park for us today.

Arsene was happy to share a glass of the hard stuff up in the office (though he declined my offer to follow us to the Bay Horse for a post-match pint, that’d have caused a bit of a stir!!); in the flesh he’s a down-to-earth kind of guy and he gladly shared his thoughts on today’s performance. After all, with his record he’s well worth listening to.

He’d clearly been impressed with Larsson and Djourou today, and for me that wasn’t entirely a good thing. You see I was rather hoping to keep them. Their contracts were both up at the end of the season, so far at least the Gunners hadn’t come forward with a new one and they’re getting to the age when a decision needs to be made as to whether they’ve got what it takes to cut the mustard in the top flight.

Too many showings like this, and Wenger’s unlikely to be willing to let them go for good. Not that I’ve got any idea whether they’d be interested in a permanent move anyway…

[davidbr]

Monday, 21st November 2005

“Thing is, boss, I just need to be in the team more often. It’s not that I want to leave or anything, the missus has settled in nicely down here, but I do need to be playing more oftenâ€.

I’d kind of got the feeling that Mark Earnshaw hadn’t been happy of late with the amount of first-team time he’d been getting, so I was hardly a great surprise when he came to me after training today for a private talk about his future down here. Not a surprise, but still a problem though.

Thing is, I can’t lie and say that Mark isn’t a backup in my current plans behind Bamba and Hartslief, but at the same time given the lack of cover in his position I really can’t afford to let him go; should either of the two first-choice centre backs pick up a serious injury, I’d be stranded deep in S**t Creek Valley without a paddle to my name.

In the end I persuaded him to give it at least until the end of the season, and promised he’d get a start tomorrow night against Lincoln (though I’d decided that already).

He seemed happy enough with that, and though the problem hasn’t been solved it’s at least on the back burner for now.

[davidbr]

Meantime, I had a visitor; Joanne Taylor from the Evening Post had called in unannounced, looking for a comment of some kind on tomorrow’s game and by the looks of it on life in general. Thankfully Laura seemed to have accepted I wasn’t desperate to get into the girl’s knickers, and she even managed a smile as Jo walked into the office.

“Sorry to drop in like this, but I just wanted to know what your thoughts are on tomorrow’s game? I mean, a lot of clubs see the LDV Vans trophy as a waste of time, treat it with contempt even. How will you be approaching the matchâ€.

“Well, Joanne, I’m not going to pretend we’re treating it like a top priority, ‘cos we’re not, and to be honest it’s a headache I could do without. But we’ll still give it our best and we’ll still be out to win, just like with every other game we play.â€

“So, you’re not planning to put out a weakened side, then?â€

“There’ll probably be a couple of new faces who weren’t involved on Saturday, but otherwise, no, I won’t be making wholesale changes.â€

“Yeah, congratulations on the win on the weekend; back into the promotion places again! D’you think you can stay there?â€

I just laughed, “Thanks, it wasn’t the best of games but we did what had to be done, as for promotion, well it’s still early days. Now, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really do have to get on.â€

That was a lie; I was worn out and thirsty, and I actually wanted to get to the pub. Plus I guess I didn’t want to come across as over-friendly with Jo; things with Laura had been good since we’d come back from Rio, but I still felt guilty, deep down, over the night I’d spent with Sarah the other Saturday.

As for tomorrow’s game, really I needed it like I needed a hole in my head. We should at least get a decent crowd down at the Memorial Stadium, though - Ratty’s had a Eureka moment, and has decided to slash prices at the gate. Kids under 16 can come for free, and for adults it’s a flat fee of a fiver. Personally I’m all for it, building relations with the local community and all that.

[davidbr]

Tuesday 22nd November 2005

Bristol Rovers vs. Lincoln, LDV Vans Trophy 2nd Round from the Memorial Stadium

Bris R (4-1-4-1); Scott Shearer, Jean-Christophe Cesto, Adam Green, Souleymane Bamba, Mark Earnshaw, Johannes Djourou, Jeroen van Staveren, Sebastian Larsson, Dean West, Franklin Salas, Francesco Milano

Though on my scale of importance the LDV Vans Trophy ranked somewhere between taking a crap and cutting my toenails, I resisted the temptation to make wholesale changes and instead stuck with nine of the 11 who’d done for Macclesfield on Saturday gone; Scott Shearer came in to give Stiel a rest, and as promised Mark Earnshaw would get his chance to show why he thinks he should be in the team.

Ratty’s price cuts had had the desired effect, and on a wet and windy Tuesday night there were the best part of 6,000 inside the Mem at kick-off - more than at the bloody Macclesfield game! And early on they were royally entertained too, as the game started in dramatic fashion.

Nine minutes in Dean West made a probing run through the middle and slid the ball into Francesco Milano, defender Che Wilson (a former Pirate, apparently) nearly removed Milano’s ankles and the referee pointed to the spot. Franklin Salas stepped up to do the honours, and Salas showed his heroics up at Rochdale were no fluke by slamming the ball into the top left corner from twelve yards - the Lincoln keeper didn’t move, and we had an early lead.

Even so it was clear the visitors were the better side, their own promotion ambitions were in tatters after a dreadful start and, sensing this could be their last chance of glory, they just seemed to want it more than we did. Up front in Freddy Eastwood they had one of the best strikers in League One, Shearer had already saved twice from him but, with the help of the referee, Eastwood would not be denied.

This time it was Johannes Djourou who made the needless rash tackle in the area, the ref evened up the penalty score and Eastwood’s spot kick was just as emphatic as Salas’ had been earlier - it would be all square at the break.

Half time: Bristol Rovers 1 (Salas pen 9), Lincoln 1 (Eastwood pen 34)

[davidbr]

I must confess that such was my disdain for this competition I found it bloody hard to find some half time words of inspiration, what came out was more Churchill the dog than Winston Churchill and what transpired was a truly terrible half of football.

Freddy Eastwood came close to doubling his tally in the 55th minute, but apart from a long ranger from Johannes Djourou that almost killed a spectator in Row Z we never remotely looked like coming up with a winner. In the end, it was actually an injury to Eastwood that proved decisive; his replacement was none other than Shaun Goater, the former Bristol City striker is a hate figure in these parts and was loudly booed every time he touched the ball (which wasn’t often, the fat bastard looked about as elegant as an overweight elephant on a one-wheeled skateboard).

But Lincoln hadn’t signed him for his ballet skills, and the tubby Bermudan would have the last laugh. Eight minutes from time Che Wilson burst forward down the left, Cesto just wasn’t close enough to him and couldn’t stop the cross, captain Kevin Maher flicked it on and there was Goater waiting at the far post for a tap-in.

The “Goat†had well and truly been fed, that was the end of the scoring, and I kept up my 100% record in Cup competitions - played three, lost three!!

Full Time: Bristol Rovers 1 (Salas pen 9), Lincoln 2 (Eastwood pen 34, Goater 83)

[davidbr]

Friday, 25th November 2005

A week at the Memorial Stadium wouldn’t be complete without a few of those little problems called injuries to keep us all on our toes!

This time it’s Souleymane Bamba who’s retired to his sick bed with a rather nasty sprained ankle that’s turned as blue as the air in Gordon Ramsey’s kitchen - for someone who’s built like a brick s**thouse, Bamba tends to pick up more than his fair share of niggling injuries, which makes you wonder exactly what we employ two physios for.

Anyway, it means Mark Earnshaw will keep his place in the team; he didn’t play badly against Lincoln in the week and maybe the fact he knows he needs to prove himself might work in our favour.

“Hello, you’ve reached the voicemail of Gary Smith. Sorry, I’m not available to take your call at..â€

If I heard that bloody message one more time, I think I’d have to kill someone! I’d been trying to get in touch with Gary for the last couple of days, I needed him to work on strengthening my threadbare defence, but all I’d got was his damn answer machine. Not that I was surprised; Gary had a heart of gold, but he was about as reliable as a Florida election result as far as being on the end of a phone went.

Laura came over with a cup of tea and a hug. “Maybe he’s on holiday or something?â€

“Yeah, perhaps. I’ll try again Monday, it’s not like it’s desperately urgent. Anyhow, what’d you fancy doing tonight?â€

[davidbr]

Saturday 26th November 2005

Bristol Rovers vs. Notts County, League Two from the Memorial Stadium

Bris R (4-1-4-1); Scott Shearer, Jean-Christophe Cesto, Adam Green, Ryan Hartslief, Mark Earnshaw, Johannes Djourou, Jeroen van Staveren, Sebastian Larsson (Ryan Williams 68), Dean West, Franklin Salas, Francesco Milano

Notts County were another side who’d started the season with play-off ambitions but now found themselves facing Christmas in the wrong half of the table. I’d watched them a couple of times on video, though, and I knew all too well they had the quality there to hurt us if we weren’t on top of our game.

I’d demanded far more fight from my players than they’d showed against Lincoln, but I didn’t mean the kind of fight Mark Earnshaw showed on the quarter-hour. To swing a left-hook at County midfielder Stacy Long was stupid enough, but to do it right under the nose of the referee was utter bloody madness; even the fact that Long had a girl’s name was no excuse, and Earnshaw took the inevitable early bath.

That didn’t seem to affect us unduly, though, Dean West and Franklin Salas were on fine form and it was thanks to my two creative maestros that we took a half time lead. Johannes Djourou started the move off by winning a crunching tackle on the halfway line, Salas took the ball forward, rolled it into the path of West and he beat onrushing keeper Kevin Pilkington with the coolest of chips from the edge of the area.

Half Time: Bristol Rovers 1 (West 38), Notts County 0

[davidbr]

The second half started with much the same story; though pacy teenager Liam Davis, on loan from Coventry, was beginning to ask questions down the left wing, so far we’d come up with the right answers and West and Salas were still dictating the midfield.

On fifty minutes Salas played in Milano but the Italian’s touch was a mite too heavy and Pilkington was able to come and collect, Salas himself forced the veteran keeper into an excellent diving save not long after, but just past the hour we finally unlocked the door.

Once again it all emanated from the boot of Franklin Salas; his vision picked out Jeroen van Staveren free on the left, the Dutchman’s drilled cross caused havoc in the County defence and there, lurking around the penalty spot, was Francesco Milano to make it 2-0 with an emphatic finish; surely the game was safe now?

Actually, no. Right after that goal County boss Gudjon Thordarson made a triple change, and though I replied with a switch of my own (Ryan Williams came on for the subdued Sebastian Larsson) it wasn’t enough; the fresh legs gradually weakened our grip.

Even so we made it into the last ten minutes with our lead intact, and I immediately sent out orders to shut up shop. Was that a mistake? Maybe, but what was most certainly a mistake was the ****-up of a backpass Ryan Williams made a few moments later - it was woefully short, substitute Glynn Hurst’s fresh legs were always going to get him there ahead of Scott Shearer and Hurst calmly rolled the ball into the empty net. My language on the touchline was unrepeatable, if Id had a gun right then Williams would have been a dead man!

That gave County, and especially Liam Davis, confidence, and the teenager’s limitless energy was driving him forward at a time most of my lot were running on empty. We never looked like we were going to hold out, and in the end we didn’t; the fourth official had just signalled three minutes of stoppage time when Davis wriggled past Cesto down the left, swung in a perfect cross and there at the back post was 19-year old sub Pat Sneath to well and truly ruin my afternoon with a last-gasp equaliser. That was Sneath’s first ever goal in League football, and that was two home points thrown away.

Full Time: Bristol Rovers 2 (West 38, Milano 63), Notts County 2 (Hurst 80, Sneath 90)

[davidbr]

“I think we’re going to have to give the fat bas**rds some extra fitness training, this is getting to be a bloody habit. Oh, and you’d better do the team talk; the way I’m feeling right now, I’d throttle the sodding lot of them.â€

There wasn’t a lot to say really, except state the bleeding obvious, and I left Tony to do that. It was a worry, though, that was the third time already this season we’d thrown away a lead late in the second half and come Monday I’d be having a serious sit-down with Paul and Tony to look over how we implement fitness training down here.

Barry Fry, my old gaffer at Peterborough, had always drummed into us the importance of fitness above all else in the lower leagues, and now I was starting to see why. We’d been by far the better side, but County had been in better condition, and in the end it’d told.

Back up in the office, Laura tried to help me put today into perspective.

“Look, you didn’t lose, and according to Sky Sports we’re still 3rd in the league. Here, have a drink.â€

As she handed me a glass of Scotch, single malt no less, a sense of calm began to wash over me. Yup, there’s nothing like strong liquor after a hard day at the office!

“That’s better. Did I ever tell you how good you are to me!â€

She winked, slipped off her top and went to lock the office door.

“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you give me a demonstration..â€

That’s the best offer I’ve had all day! As that advert (nearly) said - Notts County; who’re they!

[davidbr]

Monday, 28th November 2005

As I staggered in through the office door, Laura took one look at me and laughed.

“Christ, Teddy, you look f**king awful!!â€

Charming! That’s just the thing a guy wants to hear from his girlfriend on a winter’s afternoon! Mind you, she wasn’t lying, and for once it wasn’t down to the Jack Daniels!

After that late collapse to County, we’d decided a week’s intensive fitness training was needed, including daily cross-country runs. Now, thinking it’d set a good example to the players, I decided to come along too. Big mistake; by the end of the ten miles my heart felt like it was about to burst through my ribcage, and I was panting and puffing like an asthmatic at an orgy!

“Less of the heavy breathing, you’ll be giving me wicked thoughts!â€

The office door swung open and Gary Smith burst in, wearing a dodgy Hawaiian shirt and a cheesy grin, and gripping a bottle of Ouzo tightly by the neck.

“Mate, sorry I haven’t been in touch. Been over in Cyprus for a week or so.â€

“Working?â€

“Drinking! Right, grab some glasses, let’s get down to business.â€

Gary didn’t seem fazed by the challenge of adding to my threadbare squad, and by the time we’d polished off the best part of that bottle of Ouzo I was feeling confident that come the next transfer window there’d be at least a few more new faces to join Eamonn Zayed down at the Memorial Stadium. Laura, well, she was just feeling sick!

[davidbr]

Wednesday, November 30th 2005

“Oh ha ha, very ****ing funny…â€

I tried my best to be angry, but I couldn’t hold back a grin as I removed the giant-sized poster of Peter Kay that Dean West had stuck to the door of the dressing room before this morning’s training session. Nope, I could see that my performance in that cross-country wasn’t going to be forgotten in a hurry, and that a few extra hours in the gym were definitely in order!

Anyhow, I was in an unusually good mood for a winter Wednesday morning - we’ve got the weekend off! Saturday’s FA Cup second round day, and our dismal performance at Darlington earlier in the month put paid to any interest we had on that front for another season. So, we’re not in action again until December 6th, and that’s much-needed time to iron out any little problems after a few disappointing displays of late.

Laura was also full of the joys of November today, by the looks of it. The sales of our match programme had gone up again, and the club website (which she also edits) had just won an award from some computer magazine or another. It’s good to see she’s made herself at home here, I’m enjoying having her around the place. Any thoughts of domestic bliss, though, were rudely interrupted by Ratty bursting through the door.

“You’ll never guess what the bastards have gone and done to my car!!â€

[davidbr]

Which particular “bastards†he was talking about I had no idea, but we dashed down the stairs to the car park after him - where it all became clear.

Ratty had parked his car in the usual spot this morning (well, it’s not really “his†car, he’s only hired it for a bit) and now it was missing two of the side windows and the windscreen; put through by a baseball bat would be my guess. On the wall behind there was some graffiti, in two-foot high white letters; MOORE AND HAMILTON OUTâ€.

“I wouldn’t take it too seriously, mate, it goes with the job. Bristol City fans most likely.â€

The police seemed to share my opinion about it being the work of rival fans from across the city; but what I didn’t tell them, or Ratty, was that the abusive message we’d received at the end of October hadn’t been a one-off. No, there had been a couple more, which I’d intercepted and binned before anyone else had seen them. But I genuinely wasn’t worried; I’d played the game at a higher level than Ratty, and as far as I was concerned this kind of stuff was water off a duck’s back.

“Ah, come on, let’s shoot off down the pub, I’ll get someone in to take care of this lot tomorrow.â€

Everything always seems better after a few beers, well in our world it does anyway, and Laura and I were soon back laughing and joking with the best of them.

As for Ratty, I could see though that today’s spot of bother had affected him, and I was glad we had a few extra days rest for everything to die down.

[davidbr]

Tuesday, 6th December 2005

Chester vs. Bristol Rovers, League Two from the Deva Stadium

Bris R (4-4-1-1); Scott Shearer, Jean-Christophe Cesto, Adam Green, Ryan Hartslief, Souleymane Bamba, Jeroen van Staveren, Sebastian Larsson (Ryan Williams 45), Dean West, Johannes Djourou, Franklin Salas (Gary Hamilton 67), Francesco Milano

After our weekend’s break it was good to be back in action, and I was in confident mood as I made my way to the Deva’s away dugout. I’d barely had time to sit down, though, when ex-Everton star Michael Branch missed a sitter of a free header, and brought forth the first piece of ripe language from my good self at Cesto for his p**s-poor marking.

That proved to be only a momentary lapse, thankfully. Dean West and Franklin Salas were in sparkling form, driving the home side back, Djourou was superb in the anchor role again and with the pace of Milano we always looked only a moment’s fortune away from the opener.

That moment eventually came in the 42nd minute, when another fine run from Salas was ended by defender Luke Dimech with the kind of challenge more suited to Twickenham; somehow Dimech escaped a card, but from Van Staveren’s free kick Milano escaped his marker, climbed high and nodded the ball beyond Chris Weale in the Chester goal. It was no more than we deserved, and we were on our way.

Half time: Chester 0, Bristol Rovers 1 (Milano 42)

[davidbr]

The half time team-talk effectively took care of itself; well done, keep it up, let’s see more of the same. And we did just that - West, Salas and Djourou all came within a whisker of doubling our lead before the hour was up, by contrast all the home side could manage was a 35-yard drive from Sean Hessey that was on target but an easy catch for Scott Shearer.

At last, sixty-six minutes in, the breakthrough came. Johannes Djourou did what he’d been doing all day, and left Neil Wood in a heap after a crunching tackle. The Chester bench were furious, but the referee waved play on and sub Ryan Williams made a burst down the left. His cross wouldn’t win any prizes for technique, but David Artell made a real mess of the clearance for Chester and there was Francesco Milano to drive it low past Weale for his second of the afternoon.

The home fans had seen enough and began to leave in their droves, for me it meant the luxury of being able to give Franklin Salas the rest of the afternoon off - his job was done, Gary Hamilton stripped down to replace him.

It was partly thanks to Hamilton that we capped a fine day’s work with a late third goal. After a flowing move between West, Williams and Larsson, Hamilton found himself clear on goal. His first touch was appallingly heavy, but Artell’s challenge was even worse and Hamilton went tumbling to the ground.

That just about summed up the Chester defender’s afternoon, I was surprised to see Ryan Williams step up for the spot-kick but he scored in style, 3-0 and game well and truly over. It’ll be smiles all round tonight!

Full time: Chester 0, Bristol Rovers 3 (Milano 42, 66, Williams pen 84)

[davidbr]

“Look, I’m not any happier than you are about it, I was looking forward to a good night’s kip as well. But there’s just nowhere else available at such short notice, not anywhere that can take 18 of us at any rate.â€

Groans went up around the dressing room; it was half past ten, everyone was shattered, and instead of a nice hotel room they were now faced with a six-hour coach trip home! The plan had been to stay overnight in Chester and travel back in the morning, I’d booked the hotel and everything; or, at least I thought I had.

When Tony called to check all was OK, the receptionist confirmed we did indeed have 18 rooms booked - for the night of January 6th!!

Yep, computer wizard that I am, I’d only gone and entered 6/1 instead of 6/12 into the online booking form, and now we were left high and dry! In my defence it was done while I was distracted with the Laura business, but that didn’t stop me feeling a total prat!

“OK, the coach leaves in twenty minutes. Oh, and by the way, well done!â€

[davidbr]

Wednesday, December 7th 2005

The Memorial Stadium was a lonely place indeed this morning. No training, no Ratty (he was sleeping off a hangover, best not to ask) and no Laura either - she’d gone off to a meeting about something or other with whichever bunch of cowboys printed our match programmes.

As for me, I was all alone in the office, watching Sky Sports News, and toasting the screen with a large glass of the strong stuff every time they put up the League Two table; Bristol Rovers, for the first time in what I’d consider the “business part†of the season, sat proudly on top!

Anyway, the bottle was empty, I was falling asleep, it was time to go home. But, just as I was walking out the door, the phone rang - it was Reg, the guy who mans our reception desk on weekdays, and it seems I had a visitor.

“Who is it?â€

“Oh, some bird. Sarah something or other. Reckons it’s important. D’ya want me to send her on up?â€

“No, it’s OK, I was on my way down anyway.â€

[davidbr]

Damn, I could really have done without this right now. But it wasn’t as if I could knot two sheets together and climb out of the window, and anyway I still felt kind of guilty about the way I’d left things after our night together, the text message and everything.

“Teddy, we need to talk!!â€

“OK, but not hereâ€

So a short while later, in a little back street pub off the city centre, I downed a large whisky, and took a deep breath. I had to sort this once and for all; I had to move on.

“Sarah, I can’t do this. I don’t hate you for leaving, whatever **** came my way I brought on myself, and I guess part of me’ll always love you, deep down. But I’ve moved on, I came down to Bristol to rebuild my life and I’ve met someone else. I…, I can’t see you any more.â€

As I stood up to leave, I realised there was a tear running down my face. But I also felt somehow relieved, I’d said all that needed to be said. Or had I?….

“Teddy, wait!! I…, I’m pregnant!!â€

[Liam =D]

*Gasp*

Dont leave us in suspence!!!

[davidbr]

“You stupid, f**king idiot. What are you?â€

“A stupid, f**king idiot? I know, mate, I know. I didn’t plan any of this, did I – it just sort of happened.â€

“No, **** just sort of happens; this takes a special bloody effort! Jesus, Teddy, hasn’t that girl messed you up enough?â€

I couldn’t actually remember leaving that pub, my head was spinning so much, but I’d ended up back at the flat where Ratty was getting over the after-effects of his hangover. I knew what his reaction would be, he’d never liked Sarah even when we’d been together, but I didn’t have anyone else to talk to.

“Come off it, Teddy, you don’t even know if she’s pregnant, let alone if it’s yours. If that girl told me the sky was f**kin’ blue I’d ask for video evidence, and for all you know she’s been round the track more often than Nigel bloody Mansell.â€

Just Ratty’s suspicious mind at work? Maybe; though deep down I knew what he was saying made sense. Now our promotion challenge was looking more like being a serious one we were starting to get ever more press attention – even the Daily Mirror had a couple of columns about the Chester game. I didn’t want to believe it, but she didn’t strike me as exactly flush; was it possible she was just after a meal ticket?

There wasn’t a lot I could do about it right now, anyway – she’d said she needed a couple of days to think over what she wanted to do, in the meantime I had to get my head focussed on Saturday, and the visit of Leyton Orient. Easier said than done, of course!

[davidbr]

Friday, 9th December 2005

“We’re used to teams like Arsenal and Chelsea turning up with a team-full of foreigners, but when it starts happening at our level too then I really fear for the future of the English game. Teddy Hamilton’s only been at Bristol Rovers a few months, and already he’s built a side full of over-rated and over-paid foreign rejects at the expense of local kids coming through. And if it works, every bugger’ll be at it; that’s why I urge all true England fans to cheer us on against them this Saturday. Let’s strike a blow for English football!â€

Barry Hearn, Leyton Orient’s eccentric and up-his-own-arse chairman, had picked a very bad week to get on the wrong side of me. Since he’d made the above comments in an article in today’s Daily Mail, our phone had been ringing off the hook with reporters looking for a reaction. And I didn’t hold back; tomorrow’s game’s suddenly taken on a whole lot more significance as far as I’m concerned.

The afternoon brought with it an enquiry from Newport County as to whether I’d allow them to have Chris Carruthers on loan – since he’s crap I was happy to agree – and before I knew where I was it was half past six, and Laura was tapping me on the shoulder.

“You ok? You’ve been in a world of your own all day!â€

I smiled, and lied through my teeth!; “Sorry, it’s just this business with Hearn, it’s got to me a bit. Come on, let’s get out of here. I promised you a night out!â€

We certainly had a night out and more, as I did my best to wash away my troubles with neat alcohol and the company of a beautiful girl. In the early hours of the morning, as we relaxed in each others arms back in the flat, it hit home to me just what a mess I’d got myself into this time. I had to find out what Sarah’s plans were, and then find a way of telling Laura that I’d just got my ex-girlfriend pregnant. I know she’s said she loved me, but I wasn’t at all hopeful she’d stick around.

[davidbr]

Saturday, 10th December 2005

Bristol Rovers vs. Leyton Orient, League Two from the Memorial Stadium

Bris R (4-4-1-1); Scott Shearer, Adam Green, Kipulo, Ryan Hartslief, Souleymane Bamba, Jeroen van Staveren (Ryan Williams 77), Sebastian Larsson, Mark Worthington, Dean West, Franklin Salas, Francesco Milano (Gary Hamilton 77)

After what Orient’s chairman had said about us yesterday, motivation wasn’t going to be a problem for this one. I’d stuck the article to the dressing room wall before kick-off, and we were determined to make Hearn shove his words where the sun’s rays fail to reach. Kipulo had sailed through his late fitness test, so it was as close to a full strength side as I could get that ran out in front of almost 8,000 at the Mem this afternoon – it seemed Hearn’s remarks had fired up the fans as well as the players!

Things didn’t go to plan early on, though; ten minutes in, a slip from Johannes Djourou let in Curtis Weston, the on-loan Millwall man found fellow loanee Lewin Nyatanga wide on the left and the Welshman’s cross was bundled over the line by Gary Alexander. Scott Shearer was furious, he was convinced Alexander had fouled him at the vital moment and he sure had a point; I wasn’t about to panic though, we’d made a bright start and I was sure we’d soon be back in the game.

I was right. It all came about from the boot of Dean West, his skill in beating two Orient defenders was matched by his vision in finding Franklin Salas on the edge of the box, Salas went past Matt Lockwood as if he wasn’t there and unleashed a fearsome blast from 25 yards that Garner could only watch fly past on its way to the top corner.

On the half hour mark Salas repeated the trick, and this time it was even better. Again West was the instigator with some excellent close control, Larsson had got himself into a good position wide on the right and my Ecuadorian maestro met the Swede’s cross with a magnificent volley inside Garner’s left hand post. Not bad for a “foreign rejectâ€, eh, Barry?!

Half time: Bristol Rovers 2 (Salas 16, 30), Leyton Orient 1 (Alexander 10)

Now we had the lead I was in two minds as how to approach it – did we settle for what we’d got, or did we go for the jugular? Mindful of what County had done to us, I opted for the latter, and the nimble footwork of West and Salas kept Orient pressed back well inside their own half. Lewin Nyatanga showed why he’s so highly rated by Derby, the 17-year old was Orient’s best player and made a couple of testing runs down the right, but he lacked support and on the whole it was an easy afternoon for my back four.

We put the game to bed with five minutes left on the clock as for the umpteenth time Orient’s defence was carved open. This time it was Kipulo’s surging run that was too much for their tired legs, he made it all the way to the byline before drilling the ball back across the six yard box. Donny Barnard hacked at it but only managed to clear as far as Sebastian Larsson, and the Swede capped a superb display with a first-time turn and finish that any natural striker would have been proud of.

Larsson was booked for his celebration – he ran to the Orient end with his hands cupped behind his ears – but I didn’t give a bugger about that. 3-1 Bristol Rovers, and up yours Barry Hearn!

Full Time: Bristol Rovers 3 (Salas 16, 30, Larsson 85), Leyton Orient 1 (Alexander 10)

[davidbr]

I wouldn’t exactly call it a media scrum, but Barry Hearn’s comments had certainly caught the attention of the national press and they’d all sent an office junior or two down to cover today’s game.

It’d probably get a couple of lines on page sixty, but I was happy to milk the moment. I got the feeling they’d really come in the hope we’d end up with egg on our faces, but the way we played today that was never going to happen and I was full of praise for the lads’ efforts; Salas in particular. If he’s a foreign reject, then I wish someone would reject a few more like him my way!

“Blimey, Teddy, it’s like feeding time at the zoo down here today!â€

Since Jo Taylor had waited patiently for over an hour, I felt I owed her a few words. She’d been pushed down the pecking order what with the arrival of the boys from London, and I did feel sorry for her; she’d been very positive in everything she’d said about us of late, even that late surrender in the County game.

It didn’t take long, I basically just said the same as I’d told the rest of the mob minus the smart-arse comments they’d driven me to. Jo also told me that Arsene Wenger had come out in support of us, saying that Hearn’s attitude was tantamount to racism; I’m not sure I’d go that far, but I made a mental note to drop him a line to say thanks for the backing. That wasn’t all Jo had on her mind, either.

“Teddy, do you mind if I ask you something. It’s, well, it’s a bit personal!â€

“You can ask…â€

“Francesco Milano. Do you know if he’s got a girlfriend or anything? Not that he’d probably be interested, but I…â€

I laughed out loud. “As far as I know, he’s free and single! Bit hard to tell with Franny, he’s been out with Ratty and me a couple of times but he’s quite a shy kid off the pitch. His English still isn’t that great, either.â€

Jo blushed, “It’s not his linguistic skills I was really interested in… I don’t suppose you could ask if he’d meet me, just say it’s for an interview or something.â€

“Tell you what, you can ask him yourself. Nip on down to the dressing room, he’s not left yet!â€

I chucked to myself, and made my way out to the car park where my cab was waiting. What the bloody hell was this, Blind Date?! Still, Jo was a nice enough girl, and she could do Milano a world of good!

[davidbr]

Monday 13th December 2005

It’d been a heavy weekend, I still had a lot on my mind to say the least and my head was killing me. So it’s fair to say the first piece of news awaiting me this week wasn’t welcomed! I’ve lost Souleymane Bamba until at least the New Year, and it’s probably to a candidate for the stupidest injury in sporting history.

Yup, my strapping centre-half slipped on a bar of soap in his bath last night, he’s ended up in hospital and X-rays show he’s broken his wrist! You really couldn’t make it up! Tony called the hospital first thing today and apparently he’s going to need an operation, it’s not exactly life-threatening but he won’t play again until January at the earliest and he’s a massive player for me. It’s at times like this I really wonder if all this karma crap is true; maybe I ran over a black cat in a previous life, or something…

Tony, Paul and I had also been discussing the futures of a whole host of players, mostly the ones who I’d inherited when I’d taken over – and today was the moment of truth for a good many of them. Craig Disley, Ryan Williams, Aaron Lescott, Ali Gibb, Chris Carruthers and Paul Trollope were all told once and for all that their contracts wouldn’t be renewed at the end of the season, and as of now they were free to look for a new club.

I doubt it came as a shock to any of them – Disley and Lescott both agreed to have their contracts terminated as of right away, by the end of the day Ryan Williams had agreed a move to Shrewsbury, and as for the rest I guess they’ll just run down their contracts until the end of the season.

[davidbr]

Tuesday, 14th December 2005

Ratty reached across and picked up the ringing phone; “Teddy, it’s Jo Taylor for you.â€

I took the phone; “Morning, Jo. You run off with my star striker yet?!â€

“No! We’re going out for a drink tonight, if you must know! Look, that’s not why I’m calling – I’ve just faxed you a story from today’s Irish Times, I think you ought to read it…â€

I took one look at it, took my mobile phone from my pocket, and dialled Tony’s number down on the training ground. “Tell Gary Hamilton to get his arse up here. NOW!!!â€

The story was, as you’d have got no sweeties for guessing, about my striker Gary Hamilton; or rather, it was by him, it was an interview he’d given to the rag last week. Under a banner of “My Bristol Hellâ€, he went on to whine like a little girl about being “frozen out of the team†and about how he was being victimised by me – oh, and it seems I’d “brought him here under false pretences†– I guess he thought I was being serious when I’d mentioned the sea views and the tanned lovelies on the beaches of Lower Bristol! Right then, though, I wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

In the end I fined him two weeks wages, used more swear words than a Tourette’s convention and warned young Gary that if he ever pulled a stunt like that again he’d be out of here like very runny s**t through a digestively challenged goose.

If I was honest, though, it wasn’t Gary’s loose gob that had wound me up today. I was off to meet Sarah later on tonight; as Bobby Robson would say, were my cows about to come home to roost?

[davidbr]

Wednesday, 15th December 2005

“Well, how much?â€

Ratty’s never one to stand on ceremony, I’ll give him that. And this time he was right. I’d met Sarah for a drink last night, and she’d told me she’d decided to have an abortion; only she needed some money to pay for the operation and to “start a new lifeâ€. How much money, exactly? Three thousand pounds!

“**** off, I could book her in for a heart transplant for that! It’s free on the bloody NHS, for christ’s sake. You haven’t given her the money already, have you?â€

“Leave it out, mate, I don’t go out for a drink with three grand in my back pocket! No, I told her to come to the flat this afternoon. No offence, mate, but… I’d rather handle this on my own. I know you don’t approve, but it can’t be easy for her either, and I did love her once, y’know.â€

“It’s alright, Teddy, I mean it’ll be alright, you’ll see.â€

I probably should have picked up on the hidden meaning in that - realised that Ratty was up to something. But I was in a bit of a state, and I didn’t. Anyway, back to the flat I went, at one o’clock the intercom rang, and up Sarah came. Awkward didn’t describe it; I could barely look her in the eye. I’d decided to just give her what she wanted, and get it over with.

But before I could get my hand to my wallet, the door burst open again. It was Ratty, and he had a stranger with him.

[davidbr]

“Ah, just in time, ain’t this f**kin’ cosy. Teddy, let me introduce a friend of mine. Meet Gavin Armitage. He’s, well, a kind of, investigator.â€

“What, you mean like a private detective??â€

Armitage stepped forward; “Kind of, this is a personal favour to a friend though, Richard here was worried about this whole situation, and asked me to use my experience to take a look. Very interesting, I must say.â€

He cleared his throat, and reached into a black briefcase; from which he pulled a thin beige folder. I’d spent enough time in hospital to recognise a medical file when I saw one. What the hell was going on now? He turned to Sarah;

“So, young lady, let me get this straight. You say you had sexual relations with Edward here, you’re pregnant, and you need finance to pay for a private termination. Yes?â€

I’d expected Sarah to jump down his throat, but instead she looked strangely sheepish. I went to say something, but Ratty shook his head. Armitage opened the medical file, and flicked through the pages.

“Now, Sarah, could you explain to Edward the meaning of the medical term endometriosis?â€

She didn’t say a word, and I had to admit I’d never heard of it.

“OK. Well, in layman’s terms, it’s a condition where the tissue that should line the womb becomes displaced, and implants in areas of the body where it shouldn’t be. And, according to this (he glanced down at the file) you were diagnosed with an advanced form of the condition in August 2003, and you had surgery in December of that year. Namely, a total hysterectomy; could you explain to Teddy here what that entails?â€

I’d of course heard of a hysterectomy, but I still didn’t follow what was going on here. Sarah started to sob gently, so Armitage turned to me and answered his own question.

“Basically, Teddy, a total hysterectomy involves the removal of the uterus and surrounding reproductive tissue. In other words, if the young lady is pregnant then I think the Catholic church might be interested, because the last time something like this happened it attracted a bloody bright star and three wise men.â€

Ratty and Armitage turned to one another and celebrated as if they’d just scored the winner in the World Cup Final; I just stood there utterly stunned. I couldn’t believe that the girl I’d once dreamt of growing old with could be that calculated, that deceiving.

“Ratty, just give us a few minutes alone, yeah?â€

He hesitated for a bit. “Erm, alright, we’ll be in the Bay Horse; I reckon we’ve earned a beer or two by way of celebration. I’ll see you there in a bit.â€

[davidbr]

It seemed an age before I managed to find the right words, and all the while Sarah’s eyes stayed fixed to the floor.

“Why, Sarah? Why all this? Wasn’t it enough you destroyed me once, do you really hate me so much you wanted to come back and do it all over againâ€

“I…I’m sorry, Teddy, I was desperate. I just needed the money. You know, you’re not the only one who’s had problems. I’m 23, and I was told by some doctor that I’m never going to be able to have kids. You can’t possibly know what that feels like.â€

Up until then it’d been like it was all a dream, but I suddenly felt incredibly angry.

“No, maybe I can’t. But I tell you what I do know, darling. I know what it’s like to be abandoned by the one person you thought would always be there for you. I know what it’s like to wake up in a hospital bed terrified and alone, and then be told by a complete stranger that your reason for living’s just been snatched away from you. I know what it’s like to grab hold of a bottle of pills and feel happy that you won’t wake up to see another morning. So you’ll forgive me if I save on the tears, love.â€

I’d waited three and a half long years to get that little lot off my chest, and now that I had it was as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Sarah looked shocked; she held out her hand, and for a moment I went to take it, but I pulled back.

“I…I think I’d better go. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Teddy, and I hope it all works out for you. Take care of yourself.â€

As she made her way to the door, I pulled the bundle of notes from my jacket pocket, and pushed them into her hand. I don’t know why I did it; at the time it just seemed the right thing to do.

“Good luck, Sarah, and all the best. Honestly. Just stay away from me. Please.â€

[davidbr]

Saturday, 17th December 2005

Stockport vs. Bristol Rovers, League Two from Edgeley Park

Bris R (4-4-1-1); Scott Shearer, Adam Green, Kipulo, Ryan Hartslief, Steve Elliott, Jeroen van Staveren (Stuart Fergus 56), Mark Worthington, Johannes Djourou, Dean West, Franklin Salas, Francesco Milano (Gary Hamilton 82)

Stockport have hardly been making waves in League Two this season, but with a makeshift defence and a nightmare of a journey behind us I wasn’t too confident about our chances at Edgeley Park today.

It seemed, though, that I was being unduly pessimistic, because we were ahead from our first attack! Five minutes in Dean West and Kipulo combined well to release van Staveren down the left, his cross was headed behind and we had a corner. Franklin Salas went to take it, his wicked delivery eluded everyone apart, that was, for Johannes Djourou, who was waiting on the near post to stab home his second of the season. What a start!

The rest of the half was, in truth, a poor game of football. We badly missed the commanding presence of Souleymane Bamba at centre back and had been lucky on a couple of occasions, but in Tesfaye Bramble the home side had a striker in form and you can’t keep giving his kind chances without being made to pay eventually. Their equaliser was about as classy as our opener, two minutes from the whistle Harpal Singh’s cross was only half cleared, Michael Wolski put it back into the mix and the loose ball eventually fell to the feet of Bramble almost on the goal-line. Bramble’s brother, Newcastle defender Titus, was in the crowd and was no doubt delighted, I was bloody fuming but on the balance of play one-apiece was just about fair.

Half time: Stockport 1 (Bramble 43), Bristol Rovers 1 (Djourou 5)

I’d been getting more and more frustrated with some of our casual midfield play, but Tony persuaded me to try a few words of encouragement instead of the four-letter tirade I’d had planned. And I think in future I’ll stick to the abuse, as we just sleepwalked through the first half an hour of the second half. The closest we came to a goal was a long-range drive from Salas that went a good ten yards over the top, Stockport never even managed that, and compared to what was unfolding at Edgeley Park watching paint dry would have been considered riveting entertainment.

Just shy of the hour I’d had enough, and threw on 18-year old Stuart Fergus in place of the utterly useless van Staveren. At least the kid had a bit of drive and enthusiasm about his play, and Stockport for once had something to worry about. West and Salas began to see more of the ball, we started to play again and I started to believe again. Still, another change was needed, and it proved to be an inspired one.

Gary Hamilton wasn’t exactly flavour of the month with me after his press outburst, but since Milano looked dead on his feet I thought, what the hell, let’s give Hamilton the last few minutes to show what he can do. And he only bloody scored with his first touch!

It was the fresh legs of Stuart Fergus that created the opening, he forced a foul out of Mark Dickson and we had a free kick in a dangerous area. Franklin Salas floated it in, home keeper Spencer flapped at it like a demented chicken and Hamilton had the easiest of finishes to net what should have been the winner.

Ah, but notice I said “should†- yep, we succumbed to a nasty case of “lategoalitis†yet again. 89th minute, Spencer hit it long, Steve Elliott misjudged the bounce, and Tesfaye Bramble showed why he’s Stockport’s top scorer with a confident finish beyond Shearer. Probably a fair reflection of the play, but still f**king annoying!

Full Time: Stockport 2 (Bramble 43, 89), Bristol Rovers 2 (Djourou 5, Hamilton 83)

[davidbr]

“Let’s not beat ourselves up about this one; they’re a hard team to break down, and a lot of good teams will do well to come back from here with even a point this season. There’s things we still need to work on, but that can wait ‘til Monday. Back on the bus in 20 minutes.â€

Tony raised his eyebrows; “That was pretty calm, Teddy? I thought you’d have torn Elliott a new asshole after he missed that bloody ball for their equaliser!â€

“Ah, the lad did his best, he’s hardly played all season. Look at it as a point gained, we were bloody lucky to get even that.â€

And with that I walked out the door, whistling as I went and leaving behind a bemused-looking assistant manager! Normally he’d have been right; it was a poor performance, Elliott’s was a bad mistake and it’d cost us two points. But today I was in a good mood; the black clouds that’d hung over the last couple of weeks had been well and truly lifted, thanks to Ratty’s nose for a ******** story Laura was none the wiser about my dalliance with my ex, and I could give my full attention to the football once more.

We only had two more games this side of New Year, but they were bloody important ones; if we won them, we could start to put some daylight between ourselves and the chasing pack.

[davidbr]

Sunday, December 18th 2005

“Aah, you bastard!!â€

There’d been a hard frost overnight, I’d just nipped out to the newsagents for the morning papers, and the application of my freezing cold hands to Laura’s bare back didn’t meet with her approval!

It was unusually early for me to be anywhere near conscious on a Sunday morning (especially after the amount we’d put away last night!) but there was a good reason for me being the early bird today. Namely, the final of the World Club Championship, all the way from rather drizzly Tokyo; and thanks to the bloody time difference, it’s a 10am start!

Liverpool had come in for some fierce criticism after they’d needed a sudden-death penalty shootout to see off Aussie champions Sydney FC on Wednesday morning, but today against Sao Paulo they were quite simply awesome. An early double from Djibril Cisse and two more from Kewell and Gerrard well and truly wrapped things up before half time, and Diego Tardelli’s consolation couldn’t stop a second major trophy in the space of six months from winging its way to the hands of Rafa Benitez.

Anyway, I switched off the telly and went back to join Laura in bed, where we provided our own form of central heating, if you get my meaning! Afterwards, holding her in my arms, I remembered there was something I wanted to ask her.

“Love, what’re you doing for Christmas; I mean are you going to your Dad’s, or…â€

“What, after last time!! Not bloody likely! Why, is that an invite?â€

What’dyou think! It’s nothing special mind you, Hogshead are putting on Christmas dinner for the regulars so that’ll save us cooking, we’ll probably have a few down there and then it’s back to the flat to get p**sed. Oh, and Ratty’s invited Gemma and a few of her student friends too.â€

“Sounds good, count me in.â€

[davidbr]

Wednesday 21st December 2005

“F**king hell, that’s a bastard of a group. I’m telling you, we’ll do well to get out of that one.â€

Tony’s assessment of England’s World Cup group was pretty much spot on; it was, indeed, a bastard. We’d called a halt to training, and come 11am players, coaches, in fact just about everyone had crammed into the office to watch as events unfolded over in Geneva. And, as Michel Platini drew out the balls, everyone who was English let out a collective groan. We’ve been drawn in Group G, and we’ll face Nigeria, probably the best side in Africa at the moment, South Korea, and Turkey, both semi-finalists from four years ago!

“Were you watching Eriksson, though, love? It was almost as if he was happy with it, like he realised that when he screws up he’s just been handed an excuse on a plate.â€

Laura’s never been a fan of the shagging Swede (I’ve been prepared generally to give him the benefit of the doubt after he cruised through qualifying) but it’s true he didn’t exactly show a lot of passion; when Portugal’s group was drawn (they’ve got Croatia, Ivory Coast and the Yanks), Big Phil Scolari loudly thumped the side of his chair in disgust, and shook his fist at the official sat next to him!

Of course not all the players were following England’s luck, but there was one of my squad who had a very special interest in events elsewhere. I turned round, to where Franklin Salas stood wearing a broad grin!

“Happy with that, Franklin?â€

“It good draw. We beat Arabia, Russia no good any more, and the Frenchies will cry like the little babies when we go kicking them around the grass.â€

I’m not sure I shared Franklin’s confidence in Ecuador’s chances, but to be honest I’d have been a lot more convinced about England’s if I’d heard some similar fighting talk from Eriksson. Maybe he saves that kind of thing for Ulrika…