Pontin's, Kwik Save... and Bastion Gardens

[jdoyle9293]

I hear where you're coming from in terms of the fixtures. In one of my saves as Rangers I had Celtic for four successive Boxing Day fixtures. Took the p!ss to be honest. Great work as ever -- shaky start to the season what with TNS starting so powerfully but I have confidence in Prestatyn.

[EvilDave]

It certainly feels like there are unknown forces at work at times - let's see if Mr Williams can overcome them this season...

--

Next up were Newtown, and we were more than confident of extending our good run away at the minnows. They had become something of a yo-yo club, scrapping each year for promotion to or survival in the Premier League, and on paper we should have had far too much for them to handle. When, after 24 hard-fought minutes, the hosts got in front after a slip by Nicholls down our left, we began to worry. Was this going to be another one of those days?

Well, no. Within 10 minutes of conceding the lead we claimed it ourselves, a quick-fire brace from Josh Knight reminding everyone of his undeniable talents and reclaiming the spotlight from Jack Christopher. The latter was brought off with 20 minutes to play and his replacement wrapped things up nicely soon after, Scotcher bending home a free kick from 25 yards. When news came through of a 3-2 defeat for TNS at Airbus, we were suddenly tied once more at the top of the table – even if our goal difference was light years behind our rivals’.

Airbus were on the cards for us as well, although our encounter would be away from the rigours of the league and instead begin our defence of the League Cup. Although I had enjoyed great personal success in the competition – winning it twice in four years – I was more than prepared to sacrifice the tournament for further success in the league and Welsh Cup, the latter having evaded us so far. As such, I was not too disappointed when a rotated side fell behind not once but twice in the second half, and looked to be heading out.

Frustratingly, we equalised, which meant another 30 minutes of play. Despite the Broughton club’s best efforts we weren’t about to concede a third, and so it was left for Wilson to be the hero in the inevitable shoot-out. As if to justify my general indifference to the competition, Jamie Mullan screwed our third penalty wide of the post, ultimately sending Airbus through and leaving us with nothing but the fatigue from 120 fruitless minutes. Just three days later we welcomed Aberystwyth in the league, and our tiredness contributed to a 2-2 draw which put TNS clear at the top of the table. Sometimes, a manager just can’t win.

That left a home clash with local rivals Rhyl to wrap up October, and from the moment Knight arrowed a low finish into the bottom corner after just 12 minutes, it was to be a night the fans would not forget in a hurry. He got a second midway through the first half, but with 37 minutes on the clock Josh Macauley pulled one back for the visitors and we had a game on our hands. That is, until Scotcher drilled home seconds before the whistle, and we took a two-goal cushion in at the break.

Whatever was said in the other dressing room seemed to work as Rhyl made it 3-2 just three minutes after the restart, but we were not done ourselves. From the kick-off we swept up the field to present Frater with an unmissable chance for our fourth, and five minutes later the same man set up our captain for his hat-trick, squaring the ball across the six yard box with the goalkeeper stranded.

We were running riot, and the scoring didn’t stop there. In the 62nd minute Frater headed in for his second, and five minutes later he became the second Prestatyn player to net a hat-trick in the same match when he finished from Mullan’s cross. With Bastion Gardens stuck somewhere between euphoria and stunned amazement, Ian Sullivan came off the bench to smash home an 83rd minute eighth and we were finally done. If ever local bragging rights had been settled more emphatically, we didn’t want to know.

[tenthreeleader]

From the kick-off we swept up the field to present Frater with an unmissable chance for our fourth

Or, as Roger Bennett might call it on "Men in Blazers", "the six-inch wonder strike".

[EvilDave]

But local bragging rights are nothing for a title-challenging team like Prestatyn if we are unable to follow it up with sustained success against other teams. After breaking club and league records in our 8-2 win, we then struggled our way through the next game away at Bala, going down 2-1 in perhaps the most predictable defeat of my tenure. In midweek we snuck past Cefn Druids by a single goal, and our third game in a week saw us bundled unceremoniously out of the Welsh Cup by non-league Goytre United.

To say I was disappointed would have been an understatement. There are always going to be defeats in the league – they are understandable, and Bala have consistently proved to be among the ’best of the rest.’ However, to surrender so easily in the Welsh Cup, that elusive trophy, and to a non-league outfit, was nothing short of embarrassing. Yes, Goytre have a certain pedigree in the competition and yes, we were tired, but to be out of both cup competitions in the first round? Unacceptable.

The only positive spin anyone could come up with was that it would allow us to concentrate on the league – a cliché so blithe I refuse to countenance it. Success breeds success, as our next game, away at TNS, so clearly proved to the world. To suggest that losing tamely could somehow to beneficial to the club was to shy away from some serious questions that needed asking of my Prestatyn side.

Ardley’s men had been busy recently, surprisingly going out of the League Cup to Airbus but getting revenge in the Welsh Cup with a 4-1 thrashing of the same opposition. Accordingly, they were in high spirits and good form ahead of our trip to Park Hall, and even before the kick-off I knew it would not be our day. It was 5-2 last time, it was 3-0 this time, and our title challenge was all but over with the season just a third of the way through. We were hopeless and helpless, dragged about the field at will, and even the Rhyl Journal seemed to take pity on us this time – although perhaps memories of the 8-2 game were still lingering among their editorial staff.

We needed a sprinkling of Christmas cheer as December arrived, but in truth all I wanted to do was get out of the club and spend time with my family. Airbus were so far the only team to beat our title rivals in any competition, and arrived at Bastion Gardens rather pleased at their achievements. Perhaps inevitably, we were their latest scalp, and their 2-0 win actually drew them to within touching distance of us in the runners-up spot. Frankly, they deserved it more than we did.

With five games to go before the end of the year and nine before the league split, we were already 11 points behind TNS at the top. We had been beaten four times – already one more than in the whole of last season – whereas Ardley’s men had only dropped points on one occasion. In both of our head-to-heads we had come out distinctly second best, and as a team we seemed to be playing without the composure and efficiency that marked our title win. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what the required change was, but that it was required was clear to even the least educated of eyes. Our reign as champions was all but over.

[EvilDave]

For the remainder of the month I tried to switch my focus to Rachel and the girls in a bid to lift my general apathy towards the footballing situation. With the title disappearing off into the distance, we faced several months with little to play for, and in the meantime I wanted to make sure I wasn’t neglecting Bethan and Rebecca at such a special time of year.

On the field, it was simply a case of trying to keep as close to TNS as possible on the off-chance that they did somehow implode spectacularly, but as they won all of their games through the month – including netting six on two occasions – our wishes were in no danger of becoming reality. For our part, we bounced back well, with the last month of 2017 turning into something of a glut of hat-tricks as first Cullen Kinsella and then Ian Sullivan – twice – found their scoring boots to keep us picking up the points.

The first came in a 5-2 win over Connah’s Quay which saw four of our five goals come in a devastating 15-minute blitz either side of the interval. In the very next game we travelled to Haverfordwest where Sullivan took home the match ball after scoring three and setting up Knight for the fourth, and then we settled for a brace from our captain as we breezed past Lido. Given our good form it was perhaps inevitable that we dropped points on Boxing Day, being held 2-2 by Newtown, and then it was off to Bangor for the last game of the year.

Whether there was something in the water in North Wales I’m not sure, but after our 8-2 win over Rhyl we served up another treat for the fans. Luke Roberts fired the hosts in front after three minutes, but Sullivan had us level within 60 seconds, and the pattern for the rest of the game was set. Midway through the half we were behind again, but the same man levelled five minutes later, and after a further six Huw Lewis headed us in front for the first time. We wouldn’t look back.

From the restart we robbed Bangor of the ball and Sullivan punished them with his hat-trick goal, and 4-2 was the half-time score at a shocked Nantporth. A goal on the hour for the home side generated a degree of hope among the home fans, but we still had something up our sleeves and two goals in five minutes from Scotcher and Christopher at the death meant the score sat at 6-4 when the whistle finally blew. We were nothing if not entertaining.

Yet despite our sudden ability to find the net again, despite chasing Airbus beginning to tail off, I was struggling to motivate myself with nothing really to play for. Prestatyn were almost certain to wind up second this season, we were out of the cups, and Europe was long gone. After welcoming in 2018 with the players, I approached Chris Tipping with a request that last season would have seemed unthinkable.

To his credit, he agreed after the initial shock with little reluctance. Whether he had seen the need or not, he was not about to stand in his manager’s way. Gary Powell had taken the team before, and would do so again. The players were capable of holding their position, and the board would evaluate later. Despite the decision weighing heavy on my heart, I left Bastion Gardens and returned to Rachel with a new spring in my step.

[jdoyle9293]

Stunned! Fantastic last few updates here, Dave. Surprised at the nosedive in form at the start of the season but with a professional team in a league of semi-pros and amateurs, it's hard to match them sometimes.

[EvilDave]

Nobody thought Owain was going to stay away, did they?

--

There was some guilt in taking a sabbatical as Powell led the side to a 3-2 defeat at Aberystwyth in my first game away, but there were only two other ties in January thanks to an international break, and the boys responded well to brush aside Bala and Rhyl by the same 4-1 scoreline. I made a point of texting Gary after each game, congratulating or commiserating as appropriate and giving advice when asked. With or without me, he seemed to be doing fine.

In the meantime, while it was business as usual at Bastion Gardens, I had been granted a whole month at home with Rachel and the girls. Christmas had been special for so many reasons – Bethan’s first that she could really communicate her feelings, and Rebecca’s first ever. With family around us and football firmly on the backburner, we were able to enjoy each other’s companies for a sustained period of time, and to one extent I felt refreshed. To another I didn’t – hence my request to take January out.

Throughout the month I learned more about Rachel than I had in all the time since Bethan was born. Her maternal love kicked me hard in my own deficiencies, while at the same time making me all the more grateful for my wife’s grace and patience. With work far away, I was able to entertain one of the two girls while she inevitably concerned herself with the other, and while the old problems of sleep began to rear their heads again, the general sensation was one of blissful harmony.

The extra time at home also gave Rachel and I the chance to discuss some of the big practicalities of life in some greater detail. Some of the sleepless nights were spent ceaselessly tossing and turning, others were spent taking it turns to brew the coffee and cradle Rebecca, and others were spent dreaming of our future – would there be more children? Would Rachel go back to work again, or give it up completely? What about school for Bethan? Would I ever leavePrestatyn?

The last question was not one I had really given much thought to before now – I had simply assumed I would be at the club as long as they wanted me, at which point I would think about life beyond Bastion Gardens. When I had set out, I would have loved the managerial job at Wrexham, but with no experience I had no hope. With five years under my belt in the Welsh leagues, would they consider me? It was a moot point – the job was not likely to become available any time soon with the Dragons doing well in League Two.

More generally, I didn’t know. Would there be a time it would become too much? What if Prestatyn turned professional? What if I got an offer from England? A club overseas? We decided it would need to be significant offer for us to uproot completely, but that didn’t really narrow it down a great deal. I was unlikely to end up on the shortlist for Barcelona any time soon, but even a job in Ireland’s top tier would most likely pay well enough for us to live comfortably on the one salary.

I had a lot to think about.

[neilhoskins77]

After a little bit of a break from the forums, this was the story I was eager to catch up on. Cracking job EvilDave.

[EvilDave]

That may be the kindest comment I've ever had. Thank you Neil!

--

Of course, January wasn’t all soul-searching and sleepless nights, and there was certainly a sense of reluctance with which I returned to work at the start of February. The trips to the park with Bethan while Rebecca slept, being able to treat Rachel with her favourite meals, watching as Rebecca gradually explored her environment – I will never understand those men who use work to escape family life. Perhaps I am simply not aware of the depth of my own blessing.

My return to the dugout, much hyped by the Journal, was an easy one on paper. We would be travelling to take on Cefn Druids, the league’s bottom team, who had won only a handful of games all season. That said, we had struggled past them at home, scoring only a single goal, and could not afford to be complacent if we were take all three points.

In the end I needn’t have worried. Josh Knight set the balling rolling after just seven minutes, and although his strike was the difference at the interval, Wilson did not have a single shot to save in the first half. In the second period we were patient, professional and ultimately clinical – a second for Knight and a header from Huw Lewis securing the points long before the home side grabbed a consolation in injury time.

That took us to the first game after the split, and with TNS still far, far away – after 22 games they had only dropped five points to our 19 – we were more concerned with making sure Airbus didn’t sneak up and overtake us. The Wingmakers were eight points behind in 3rd and enjoying their best season for many years, and we couldn’t afford to get complacent about the cushion we had – particularly given the inconsistency we had demonstrated thus far.

The split first pitted us against Lido, and two goals in three minutes just before the half time whistle were enough to earn us all three points in a professional performance. However, we were soon to be shown the meaning of professional, as TNS sent us packing from Park Hall with a thumping 4-1 win, Northern Irish international Gerard Kirk helping himself to a hat-trick as we were once more hammered by the side we considered our rivals. Whether Ardley concerned himself with us anymore was another matter.

Another 2-0 win – this time at home to Bangor – got us back on track for the runners-up spot as TNS lost just their second league game of the season. Incredibly, it was Airbus who got the better of them again, picking up their third win over the champions-elect in all competitions, and so we had reason to fear when our nearest rivals for second place welcomed us to Broughton for our next clash. They took the lead, deserved to extend it but failed to do so, and were punished when Ian Sullivan arrived late onto a Mullan cross to level the scores. It finished 1-1, and we were happy enough with the point, such was the state of our season.

[EvilDave]

This will be the last post in here for a couple of weeks, as I'm heading off to Georgia (the country, not the US state) on holiday for a short break. Normal service will resume on my return.

--

If things had been bad, they were about to get worse. A weak performance at Bala saw us not only lose the game by two goals to one, but also formally handed the title to TNS as they won yet again to wrap up the Premier League with five games still to play. We had at least attempted to defend our first title – our second had simply been handed straight back without a fight.

The five games that remained should have given us a chance to regain some of our pride, a chance for Prestatyn Town to remind those watching that we too could compete with the best of the Welsh game. What instead occurred was an aberration of a run, an abysmal set of performances that almost saw us lose our runners-up spot. Whether it was despondency after seeing Ardley’s men finally lift the trophy, whether it was knowing that there was nothing to play for – whatever the reason, we were shocking.

A double from Josh Knight rescued a point at Lido after the defeat to Bala, just as Airbus began to put together a winning run of their own. We followed that up by welcoming the newly-crowned champions and being put to the sword once more, enduring another defeat to take our aggregate score against TNS for the season to a miserable 15-5. In the latest encounter we at least put up a fight, going down 3-2 to a goal in the final 10 minutes, but to fail to take a point from them over the course of a whole season rankled me more than it possibly should.

One defeat led to another, and Bangor were the next beneficiaries of my players’ absenteeism, cruising to a 3-0 win at Nantporth which enacted some measure of revenge for the 6-4 thriller we had prevailed in earlier in the season. That preceded a meeting with Airbus which even just a few weeks before looked meaningless, but a win for the visitors would have seen them move above us into second place. Instead Bastion Gardens witnessed its first goalless draw since the opening day of the 2015/16 season – also against Airbus – and the lone point meant that unless there was an unprecedented swing in goal difference, we couldn’t be overtaken.

That didn’t stop us ending our season on another low note with a 1-0 home defeat to Bala, and Airbus’ win at Lido meant that they actually finished the season level on points but with an inferior goal difference. In my first season we had finished second with 60 points, won the title with 66 the following year, missed out to a rampant TNS with 71 and reclaimed the trophy with 75 last year. This time, we had managed a pathetic 56 points.

A glance at the top of the table will show that there was no way we could have stopped TNS. The Oswestry traitors completed the best season since the reorganisation of the league, claiming 88 of a possible 96 points and dropping points in just three matches. They picked up the Welsh Cup to round off a near-perfect campaign, and would be the team to beat again next time round.

Yet to finish more than 30 points behind the leaders, to complete the season without a win in seven matches and to fail to take a point off the side considered to be our rivals – and to do all this as defending champions – is unacceptable. For the first time in my Prestatyn career, I was asked to attend a formal post-season meeting with Chris Tipping – our previous end-of-season affairs had been much more relaxed – and for once I feared the worst.

[EvilDave]

Chris’ handshake and manner were as friendly as ever, but I couldn’t help feeling apprehensive about the meeting. While I’d been asked to finish in the top three – which I had done – the phrase ‘title challenge’ had also been used, and finishing so far behind TNS did not really constitute a challenge. I don’t know whether I was expecting to be dismissed or simply worried about it, but the threat loomed even if only in my own mind.

“What’s the matter Owain? I don’t think I’ve seen you smile since Christmas, and you’ve slumped yourself in that chair as if the world is on your shoulders. Tell me, what’s the problem?”

My chairman’s opening gambit was a little too deep for my liking – or perhaps more pointedly, too accurate. In the second or two before replying I attempted to prove him wrong in my own mind. I failed.

“Well Chris, it’s not been a good year. The players are good enough – they won us the title last year – but for some reason…”

“Allow me to stop you there, Owain. I know the players are good enough. I know Rhys Wilson is still the best goalkeeper in this league and I know only TNS have got a better strikeforce than we have. I know Jandir Zola is still the inspired signing he was when you first bought him, and that you’ve bought some cracking young talent into this club. What I asked, however, is what the matter with you is.”

His tone was direct, but not aggressive, and I was unsure whether to be calmed or frightened by my employer. Leaning forward in his chair with a slight smile and his hands loosely clasped together, the situation had all the makings of a therapy session. I made the most of it.

“Chris, you’ve known me for five years now. I’ve always been a winner, or at least something close. Whether it’s the Premier League or the League Cup, every season we’ve either won or come mighty close to winning something. It’s what keeps me going. This year – well, you know what’s it’s been like. Out of the cups in round one, dead and buried in the league by Christmas – what has there been to play for? I know improvement is a constant process, but when the goal isn’t there then I lose that focus.”

He paused, only breaking eye contact momentarily to glance down at his own lap. I didn’t know whether I’d said the right thing – after all, admitting to effectively not caring for half a season was hardly good form in front of your boss. I wasn’t expecting what came next.

“I’m not sure I believe you. Let me correct that – I do believe that you’re a winner, I saw it when I hired you and I still see that today. I don’t believe you didn’t care this season when TNS disappeared over the horizon, and I don’t believe you didn’t care when Goytre dumped us out of the cup. I’ve seen anger from you Owain, and people who don’t care don’t get angry.

“It’s not that you haven’t cared. There are very few people in this world who would dedicate themselves full-time to a part-time football club like Prestatyn if they didn’t care, and even fewer with no prior connections here. The problem, Owain, is that for the first time in your life you care about other things.”

“You mean Rachel and the girls?”

“Yes, I mean Rachel, I mean Bethan and I mean Rebecca. You have a wonderful family, Owain, a wonderful family. But the numbers aren’t the only things that have changed. Yes, we won the league after Bethan was born, but you were a new father with all the energy in the world. Now your loyalties are divided, you don’t have the freshness and vigour you once had, and it’s easier to put one of the balls down than to juggle both. That’s what the matter is Owain.”

I sat in stunned silence, listening to Chris pick me apart psychologically. It wasn’t pointed, it wasn’t angry, it was spoken softly, calmly – almost lovingly. And yet, despite the compassion in his voice, I was seething inside.

“You want to blame my children for this season? You want to pin the fact that TNS only dropped eight points on the fact I have a family now? For heaven’s sake Chris, if I’d have known it was going to be this much of an issue I wouldn’t have bothered coming back in February…”

“Calm down Owain, it’s not a problem and I’m certainly not blaming your kids for the fact we’re no longer champions. What I’m saying is you need to adjust. Spend more time with the kids – nobody forces you to be here when the players aren’t. Treat Rachel every now and then. Just don’t work yourself into the ground and feel guilty that you haven’t done any of those things. You’re not 19 anymore Owain – you need to be clever about where you use your energy. All I’m saying is that we need you at the top of your game, and so do your family. But you can’t be at the top of your game if you’re constantly beating yourself up about not being somewhere else.

“Before you say anything, let me make something very clear – unless we get relegated, nobody is forcing you out of Bastion Gardens. The fans would kill me for a start, and you’ve worked miracles with this club. What I’m suggesting is this – tell me or Gary who you want bringing in over the summer, take Rachel and the kids on holiday, and don’t think about football until the lads come back. Then, when the season gets going, you’ll be recharged and you don’t need to be in here seven days a week. No sabbaticals and crisis points, just a happy manager, a wife who gets surprise visits from her husband and two girls who get to play with daddy a bit more.

“And you never know, we might just win that title back. One more year is all I’m asking for Owain, one more year. Now, are you in, or are you going to keep moping about the place?”

I couldn’t really have said anything else.

“I’m in, Chris. It might take me a while to adjust, and I can’t promise I’ll be sunshine and smiles all the time, but I’m in.”

He rose to shake my hand and I did likewise. It was only when I reached the door that I realised I’d forgotten something.

“Oh, and Chris…”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

[displaced_seagull]

Good, I've been waiting for you to update so I can post to say how much I'm enjoying this, it really is excellent

[jdoyle9293]

The last update really was a great piece of writing, even as a standalone scene. Great work and I'm loving the continuation of this story.

[EvilDave]

Thank you both for your kind words - that last post was one of the hardest to write so I'm glad it seems to be have worked.

--

With the twin burden of my immediate future and long-term plans lifted from my shoulders, it was far easier to enjoy the summer with Rachel and the girls. My summer transfer plans were limited anyway, but by handing over a list of targets to Chris and Gary, I was free to spend the time exactly as I saw fit. That meant times of complete isolation, others in the loving company of family and friends, and for one week a first overseas trip for Rebecca as we took in the beautiful seclusion of Galway. It also meant that when I returned to the training ground, I was ready and refreshed.

To the first team squad, there were a few changes - my chairman and assistant had done well. Defensively we had been poor last year, and so reinforcements were most definitely necessary. Daniel Evans and Andrew Anderson were promoted from the youth side, but the biggest arrival came in the form of Noah Edwards. Making the move from local rivals Bangor made him an unpopular man in some parts of North Wales, but he would bring skill and experience to our back line.

We also moved to strengthen the wings, where our inability to rotate had resulted in some tired legs last season. This year’s signing from TNS was young left winger Martyn Kelly, who had been on my hitlist for two years now and would almost certainly step into the starting line-up from the off. Backing him up would be former Aberystwyth man Matty Price, a youngster who relied on craft and guile rather than pace, while yet another youth prospect, Andy Grant, got the nod to step up and fight for a place on the right side of our midfield.

Heading away from Bastion Gardens would be a number of young players who would never make the grade, and to the surprise of many, Jack Christopher. Jack had been with us for just a single year and had performed well, but he had been unable to cement himself as a starter ahead of the long-serving pair of Knight and Frater. With Ian Sullivan progressing well and Guy Clarke’s rapid development earning him more chances in the first team, the need for a well-paid fifth striker was debatable. When Jack’s old club Bala offered to take him back, he was keen to make the move, and we couldn’t hold a deserving professional against his will.

Our season would, as ever, begin in European competition - the Europa League a poor relation to the Champions League we had sampled previously - but before we made our trip to Sweden where we would almost certainly be beaten, there was still something that I needed to sort out with the chairman. The call was short and sweet.

“Good evening Owain, what can I do for you?”

“I’ve been thinking Chris. When we had our chat, right at the end you said you were only asking me for one more season. Did you mean that?”

The silence before he replied spoke volumes. “I did mean it, and I still do. If you want to stay longer I would be delighted, but I don’t think you do - and before you protest, I think you know I’m right. You don’t owe Prestatyn anything Owain, and you have a family to think about.”

“I don’t know how you get inside my mind Chris, but you know me better than I do. Truth be told I don’t know what I want, but I think you may be right. If we win the title this season, I’ll make it my last. If we don’t - I don’t know if I could go out on a low.”

“I understand, I really do. I don’t want to lose you Owain, you’re the best manager this club has ever had. But I don’t want to break you either. Now get back to your wife, and make sure that in a year’s time you’re both happy with your decision.”

[EvilDave]

Summertime in Sweden can go some way to shattering your illusions of Scandinavia. Whereas the Nordic nations are often portrayed as permanently snow-covered with gusty winds forcing cross-country skiers to take shelter, we arrived in Gothenburg to 20 degree heat, a balmy breeze from the Baltic a welcome coolant in the warmth. We were not here to go sight-seeing however - probably for the best given the extortionate price of almost everything in the city - but to take on local heroes IFK for our Europa League futures.

By entering in the second round rather than the first, we had been denied the chance for a repeat of the Cailungo tie from last season and the opportunity to boost confidence at the expense of a true footballing minnow. Instead, we were straight in with one of the giants of the round, the lowly Welsh co-efficient doing us little favours when it came to UEFA’s high-profile draws.

As such, we were expected to take a pasting from a strong IFK side, and when Wilson stooped to pick the ball out of his net after just eight minutes of play I feared the worst. Our small group of travelling fans remained in good voice throughout, but they were comprehensively outsung by the Swedish locals, and when Petar Alexandersson smashed in a second goal before the break, the tie was as good as dead.

There was one more goal to be scored at the packed-out Gamla Ullevi, and sadly it was not a crucial away goal, although Frater did at least worry the goalkeeper on a couple of occasions. Instead it was an unfortunate own goal by the desperate Nicholls, our left-back turning a cross beyond Wilson with a striker breathing down his neck. At 3-0, we were out, and the return match in Rhyl seemed somewhat unnecessary.

Despite the mountain we had to climb, we once again managed to fill Belle Vue for what was effectively a dead rubber. I took the opportunity to rotate the side and give some of the younger players the chance to sample European football, and they did not let themselves down, centre-back Anderson marking his full debut with a man of the match performance.

For all their efforts, however, we were simply a step behind Goteborg at every step, chasing shadows and rarely managing to sustain a period of possession. The Swedes scored not quite at will but regularly enough to make the aggregate score seem a little harsh, matching their win from the first leg to rack up a 6-0 overall scoreline. My players had not disgraced themselves - Guy Clarke denied a consolation by a late offside flag - but once again we had been found wanting at the highest level.

With one of our four competitions for the season already gone, we had time to re-focus before the start of the Premier League season. Our friendlies passed in the traditional form - money-spinning ties against Cardiff and Swansea followed by the usual tour of North Wales’ lesser footballing lights - and mercifully we made it through pre-season without so much as a niggle. Once more we would face Bala in our season opener, and this time we were as ready as we had ever been.

[EvilDave]

When Ian Sullivan’s header found the net just 45 minutes into the new season at Bastion Gardens, the game was already over. Bala, so many times the third wheel in the Welsh title race, and our conquerors on numerous occasions, once again stood between us and a winning start to the campaign. This time, despite the best efforts of Tomi Morgan, they had not stood a chance.

Sullivan’s header on the stroke of half-time rounded off the perfect half for both my team and young striker. After netting as early as the 7th minute, the youngster had gone on to double the advantage midway through the half with an emphatic finish from outside the area, and in securing the match ball before the interval he had put the game far beyond the reach of the visitors from Maes Tegid. That Daniel Evans, one of our new centre-backs for the season, had headed in our third of the game from a corner simply made the scoreline all the more emphatic, and our opponents had little in response.

They did end up on the scoreboard, the returning Jack Christopher coming off the bench to finish low beyond Wilson, but the 4-1 scoreline flattered his new side. As results from around the country filtered in, what everybody at Bastion Gardens had suspected became quickly clear - the new season was merely a day old, but it would start with Prestatyn Town sat proudly on top.

Our job now was to make sure that we consolidated our strong start by repeating the performance down the line. Our first away game of the season took us to Connah’s Quay, and at half-time we were in a bit of a quandary, a goal from Price on the left wing and Grant on the right only clawing us back to 2-2 after a strong start from the hosts, and we had work to do.

However, I knew we had the quality in the squad to shine through, and my players evidently realised it too. Fresh from his hat-trick against Bala, Sullivan bagged a second-half brace either side of a long-range effort from midfield dynamo Zola, and we ran out comfortable 5-2 winners despite our shaky start. We had conceded three goals in the first two goals, but by scoring nine we had sent out a strong signal to the rest of the league. We were here to stay.

We returned home to take on Airbus in the next round, and this time things were a little more low-key. Undeterred, Sullivan continued his great early season form with the opener midway through the half, and Wilson’s first clean sheet of the campaign was backed up by captain Josh Knight getting amongst the goals for the first time.

Even better news came from rivals Rhyl, where TNS had gone down by a single goal to nil, and for the first time we pulled clear of our hated title rivals. It meant next week’s trip to Oswestry would end with them behind us unless they handed us a hammering, and I was not about to let that happen. Not after last year.

[tenthreeleader]

Very nice to have new material from you, Dave. Lovely post about family upthread as well. You do a very nice job with that portion of writing and it does leave us either wanting Prestatyn to win -- or not, since it might mean more story.

[EvilDave]

Thanks 10-3 - I'm glad the non-football posts are holding up OK, it's fairly new ground for me so I appreciate the encouragement!

--

Having tried to take on board my chairman’s advice about striking a balance between Prestatyn and my young family, a trip to England was the first real test. So far, everything had been going well and the team had been winning - a mood booster if ever there was one for a manager - but with TNS on the horizon it would have been all too easy for me to neglect Rachel and the girls in pursuit of three more points.

As it was, I made a conscious effort not to fall into the trap. In an unprecedented move I decided that the players did not need the third training session of the week - they had been working hard enough as it was - and instead took the opportunity to give my wife my undivided attention. My plan to beat Ardley and his men was already concocted, and tinkering would not have helped.

Eight minutes into the game at Park Hall, the stands fell silent and my plan felt justified. Josh Knight wheeled away to the Prestatyn fans, the club badge raised to his lips in celebration after nodding in Martyn Kelly’s cross, and the reigning champions faced the real prospect of being knocked six points behind after just four games of the new season.

Ardley’s men were better than that, but they were not better than us. Knight almost doubled our advantage before the break with a fierce shot that rattled the crossbar, but TNS’ own strikeforce gave our backline problems of their own. Half-time came and went with our lead intact, but in the second half their constant pressure told, and it was Gerard Kirk - our tormentor-in-chief in the absence of Greg Draper - who eventually levelled the scores.

Last year we would have crumbled, but this time we held firm, taking a point back to Prestatyn which kept us atop the early standings. For our rivals they would have to evaluate an approach which had seen them win just half of their opening four matches, and figure out how to turn the goals of Kirk into a coherent title defence.

But that was not our problem, nor did I want it to be. Not wishing to tone down our performance after such a battling effort in England, we returned home to welcome a dangerous Haverfordwest side. TNS aside, they proved our toughest opponents of the season so far, but even they were no match for Josh Knight, our skipper volleying in the only goal of the goal inside the first quarter of an hour.

That sent us nicely to Newtown to round out September, and this time it was our central defensive pairing who came to the fore. With our strikers misfiring, Noah Edwards scrambled home a corner to put us into the lead, and then his partner Evans nodded in not one but two free-kicks to seal the victory. Our hosts got on the scoreboard from the penalty spot, but a late fourth from substitute Grant placed a well-deserved exclamation mark on the victory, and with Airbus holding TNS to 2-2 draw at Park Hall, we pulled further away in the title race. The season was young, but we were looking very strong indeed.

[EvilDave]

We kept on going, and October was greeted with a narrow but comfortable win over Carmarthen, Knight adding another to his personal tally with the only goal of the game, this time in the second half. After shipping three in our opening two games, we had conceded just twice in the subsequent five, and it was fast becoming clear that the arrivals of Edwards and Evans had plugged a gap that last year had been our downfall. There would be no 6-4 thriller this season.

Before we got our League Cup campaign underway, we had a 10-day rest period and I made the most of it. Our part-time status meant Gary only had to take the one training session, but he was willing enough and it meant I could spend some quality time with my family. It was well timed - Bethan came down with a nasty case of chickenpox, and it was all Rachel and I could do to keep her from scratching herself silly. Inevitably, Rebecca suffered the same thing - her youth making her more curious than upset by the marks on her skin - and eventually the scabs fell off. It was a bit of a test for the four of us, but at least it was no longer anything to worry about later in life.

The League Cup may be the poor relation of the three Welsh trophies on offer each season, but having won it in my debut season I had something of a soft spot for the oft-sacrificed silverware. I had done it myself before, but on the back of a long rest I had no intention of doing the same this time. Connah’s Quay were to be our opponents in the opening round, and we travelled in high spirits with only a slightly rotated squad.

As in the Premier League encounter a few weeks earlier, the hosts came out fast and fighting. We weathered the opening storm, but teenage forward Stuart Michaels got the breakthrough around half an hour in, much to the delight of the home fans. Just two minutes later however, it was our small band of supporters who were singing for joy - Mullan sending in a cross after his initial corner was headed out, and Edwards rose highest to head us level at half-time.

In the second half it was my Prestatyn boys who had the ascendancy, but not the accuracy to trouble the scorers any further. Eventually, after all substitutions were made and caution thrown to the wind, a low cross from Matty Price on our left seemed destined for the boot of Frater and the back of the net, only for a sliding defender to get their first and deflect it beyond the keeper for an own goal. The home side had little time to respond, and we booked our place in the quarter-final.

When the draw was made there was a certain inevitability when our name followed that of TNS, a trip to Oswestry standing between us and the final four. There was a sense of frustration in the fact that we seem to meet Ardley’s side every year in the cup competitions, but a sense of excitement in that this year we seem far better prepared to take them on. If we could broom them out of the League Cup, it would go some way to putting our name back on the trophy.

Perhaps tired by our cup excursions - although with a break beforehand it was a poor excuse, we struggled to a goalless draw down the road at Bangor, much to the delight of our local rivals, but despite our worst display of the season we managed to extend our lead over TNS in the table. This time it was Haverfordwest who got the better of them over in Pembrokeshire, and in doing so actually leapfrogged the champions into second place. We didn’t want to get carried away, but the gap was up to six.

[EvilDave]

There was just one more match in the league before our cup tie over the border, and we welcomed Afan Lido to Bastion Gardens determined to improve on our showing at Bangor. Once something of a bogey team of ours, in recent years Lido had slipped down the league and were regularly on the end of a beating from my side and others. However, this year they were sitting in the top half at this early stage, and with two consecutive weeks were in good shape.

So it proved when Wilson picked the ball out of his net inside five minutes, and although we got a huge slice of luck later in the half - Knight converting a penalty which was given for a foul on a clearly offside Frater - it was not enough to take us in level at break. This time it was a self-inflicted wound - Elliot Scotcher’s driven pass was too powerful for Edwards to control, and the loose ball was snaffled up and powered home before our defence could recover. We had work to do.

And do it we would, putting three unanswered goals past the unprotected Lido keeper to turn things around and claim the points. It took just seven minutes of the second half to restore parity, Knight grabbing his brace after being lost by his marker, and from then on it was one-way traffic. Ian Sullivan got the goal to put us in front for the first time, and in the game’s dying embers Price iced the cake with a sumptuous curling strike.

That meant we could travel to Park Hall with a win under our belts and a spring in our step, and our mix of first team regulars and young talents got things underway at a high tempo. It was a tempo which ultimately cost us however, that man Kirk managing to intercept one of several one-touch passes in the midfield, race clear and slot beyond Wilson to put the hosts in front.

But we were playing well, and TNS could not shake us despite their best efforts. Martyn Kelly had a point to prove against his old side, and he played a key role in our leveller just before the break, playing a reverse ball in behind the defence which Craig Frater turned into the path of Carl Whittaker. The young midfielder had timed his run to perfection, and with one touch steered the ball into the bottom corner to give us parity.

Parity would last throughout the entire second half, my side tiring as a result of our frantic start and TNS tiring from chasing us. For both sides there were glimpses of victory - Frater thumping a header off the bar and Kirk rolling a delicate chip just wide of the post - but as the clock ticked on it seemed as if we had settled for extra time. When the first half passed without incident, even penalties seemed inevitable.

But substitute Guy Clarke had other ideas, and booked our place in the semi-finals with a stunning strike. Zola was brought down in full flow around 25 yards from goal, and after a brief chat with his fellow substitute, our young forward took three steps back and curled a picture-perfect free-kick up and over the wall and into the top corner of Ross Wormley’s goal. It was more than good enough for the lead, and more than good enough for the win as TNS tried in vain to muster the energy for an attack of their own.

It never came, and after our league stalemate we had drawn first blood. Ardley kept surprisingly quiet in the press after the game, and with only Rhyl, Newtown and Aberystwyth remaining in the competition, we became firm favourites as soon as the final whistle blew. It may only be the League Cup, but every trophy is worth winning.

[tenthreeleader]

Big win over the bad guys, Dave! Looking good!

[EvilDave]

Thank you 10-3 - it's always nice to get one over TNS!

--

The draw for the semis picked us a plum home tie against local rivals Rhyl, less than a week after hosting them in league. We had had the upper hand over our rivals for several years now, but they were always capable for springing a surprise - the local Journal taking great delight in reporting the facts whenever we suffered a defeat to their golden boys.

The first meeting of the two would not give them the opportunity to gloat, but instead to lamant Rhyl’s misfortune. The visiting side were awarded a penalty midway through the first half, but Wilson guessed correctly to push it strongly away for a corner. Five minutes later Scotcher drilled home a loose ball from the edge of the box, and the single goal was enough to win us the bragging rights.

Before that we had seen out October with a thriller in Aberystwyth, and a game that had the crowd on the edge of their seats for much of the 90 minutes. After half an hour we looked home and dry, two goals from Craig Frater giving us a two-goal lead our incisive passing richly deserved, but a moment of genius allowed our hosts to half the deficit before the break, and all of a sudden our composure vanished.

Aberystwyth leapt out of the blocks for the second period, and if it hadn’t been for a brilliant reflex save from Wilson in the opening moments, the home side could have levelled almost immediately. Our goalkeeper came to the rescue again 10 minutes later, but just after the hour he was well and truly beaten by a bullet of a header back across goal. Time and time again the green-shirted swarm bore down on our goal, and time and time again we managed to repel them at the last possible moment. Then, with two minutes of injury time to play, Edwards dived in and conceded a free-kick just inches outside the penalty area. Up stepped Richardson, and in came the shot.

Zola was the tallest brick in our wall, and it was his broad shoulders which blocked the effort. The ricochet dropped within reach of our midfield destroyer, and thinking quickly he knocked the ball sideways to Scotcher. With Aberystwyth pushed up into our half, our creative force chipped a delicately-weighted ball over their defence, where speedster Kelly met it at full pace. On our winger went, out came the goalkeeper, and with a deft touch the former TNS man flicked it round him, continued his run and tapped it into the unguarded net.

Somehow, despite having being penned into our own half for much of the second half, we had stolen all three points. The roar from the players when Kelly applied the final touch showed just how pumped up they were for the win, and our travelling fans went mad in the stands. They say the sign of champions is to win when playing badly, and if that was the case they might as well have crowned us there and then.

Alas, it was only October, and after overcoming Rhyl we kicked off our Welsh Cup journey in the port town of Caernarfon. The non-league side were up for a fight, but Evans’ early header broke their underdog spirit, and a second from Sullivan early in the second half put us in cruise control. Rhyl were next in the League Cup semi-final, and after five wins in a row we were hot favourites.

[EvilDave]

When we took on Rhyl in the league, we were forced to scrap for our 1-0 win but only in a footballing sense. When it came to a cup semi-final however, even if only the League Cup, our visitors were fired up and let us know about it. While we could deal with an opening burst of frantic attacking, what we could not deal with with was an overly aggressive style of play which led to Price being taken off inside 20 minutes. They were taking their manager’s instruction to get in our faces a little too seriously, and the crowd did not like it one bit.

Nor did young centre-back Andrew Anderson, who was given a rare start in his first derby match. Five minutes before the break the red mist came down, a two-footed lunge in an area of relative safety leaving the referee no choice but to reduce us to 10 men. Moments later Wilson was called into action to parry away a stinging drive from range, and we were feeling the pressure.

But Rhyl could not continue to fly into tackles without facing consequences of their own, and 10 minutes into the second half they too were reduced to 10. With the playing field level once again, our superior technique and stamina slowly began to take effect, and the tide began to turn. Young Andy Grant, playing out of position on the left, provided the ball from which Knight fired home the winner 20 minutes from time, and despite their best efforts to kick us off the park, we had booted Rhyl out of the cup. The Journal, suffering a rare attack of morality, did not attempt to dress things up.

Of course, the kicking we took from our rivals did come back to haunt us, and we were only able to limp to a 1-1 home draw with Connah’s Quay as we returned to league action - a result which allowed TNS to cut the gap to four points - before a brace from Cullen Kinsella, playing in place of the rested Scotcher, saw us past Bala by two goals to one. That saw us to the end of November still in all three domestic competitions, and with every chance of winning them.

On the home front, Bethan’s mood could not have changed any more from her bout of chickenpox. Relieved of her scabs, she seemed to transfer all her energy into running rings around her mum, and so any time I spent at home seemed to be spent chasing my eldest daughter while Rachel looked after Rebecca. Her sister was not only getting quicker but louder, her babbling becoming increasingly coherent, and so the unexpected moments of both hilarity and heartwarming were adding up fast.

The net result of a winning team and a laughing family was a mood happier than I had experienced for some time, and after my conversations with Chris I wondered what that was down to. Would I be as contented with a team fighting to avoid relegation? If the girls were ill, would my work suffer? Perhaps more importantly, would they face the fallout from a bad run of form? Just how far did my experiences with Prestatyn filter into everyday life?

The only way I would know for sure was if we hit a rocky patch - either on the field or at home - and so far this season I had been spared both. All I could do was wait, and make sure that when the time, my head was in the right place.

[tenthreeleader]

No foreshadowing at the end there, I trust ...

Excellent work as always, ED.

[EvilDave]

Surely you didn't spot my oh-so-subtle hint? Thanks for your kind words 10-3, much appreciated.

--

As it turned out, I would not have to wait very long for the long-awaited slump in form. Not very long at all - in the three December games we played before Christmas, we won just one. In the other two, we hovered somewhere between unlucky and downright miserable, yet the damage to our title bid was surprisingly small.

First of all we travelled to Broughton and an Airbus side blowing hot and cold and in danger of missing the top six after split. Evans continued a strong goalscoring season for a centre-back by stabbing a rebound from Scotcher’s free kick, but by the time he put us on the scoresheet we were already 3-0 down, some truly calamitous defending allowing the hosts to race away with the game. A fourth in stoppage time simply added salt to the unexpected wound, and the bus back to Prestatyn was quiet to say the least. The only cheer came when the other results came in, Rhyl doing us another favour by holding TNS scoreless in Oswestry.

Two weeks later, it was Connah’s Quay who were the toast of the team bus, edging a seven-goal thriller against the defending champions to ease the pain of our 2-1 defeat at third-place Haverfordwest. If our performance in Broughton was bad, this was unlucky - an early Zola goal ruled out for a foul nobody saw, and a late winner for the hosts that deflected cruelly off Anderson to wrong-foot the otherwise excellent Wilson in goal. It was not the result we wanted going into a week-long Christmas break, but with a six-point lead we still had plenty to celebrate.

The reason we had somehow managed to extend our lead was the middle game of the three, the visit of TNS to Bastion Gardens. We welcomed our biggest crowd of the season for what some were prematurely labelling a title decider, and got off to an absolute stormer, Edwards towering over his marker to open the scoring from the last of four corners in the first five minutes.

By half-time, the whole ground was rocking. After a quiet period in the middle of the half, we had shifted gears in the last 10 minutes, and taken Ardley’s men by surprise. With 35 minutes on the clock Frater barrelled through the centre of their defence to double the lead, and two minutes later he made it 3-0, a clever turn leaving his marker for dead and his arrowing drive flashing past a diving Wormley. At the break it was all over, and we had our laid our marker firmly down.

Or so we had thought. Five minutes after the break, Thornton caught one perfectly from distance to leave Wilson grasping at thin air, and all of a sudden TNS had their tails up. The buoyant atmosphere from the first half seemed to drift off on the wind, and Bastion Gardens was worryingly silent as we tried in vain to get off the back foot. We couldn’t, and with a quarter of the game still to play Nicholas Rushton rattled in their second. From cruising comfortably we were now shaking like a leaf, and it was all we could do to hang on to the lead.

We couldn’t, and as Kirk slid the ball beyond Wilson to tie the game, it was only the beautiful sight of the linesman’s flag that stopped our three-goal cushion evaporating completely. Ardley was seething at the final whistle - he knew he should have won - and I had no energy for anything other than relief.

We may have won the match on the back of our first defeat of the season, and we may have followed it with our second, but that one win - combined with TNS’ own struggles - meant we hit the festive period six points clear. We had six games to go to the split, and everything was still looking rosey.

[EvilDave]

Christmas, as ever, was a joyous occasion. For the first time Bethan could at least begin to understand what was going on, which made it more special than the feted first Christmas which seems to attract so many emotions. There were no Canadian relatives this time, but an emptier house was by no means a quieter one, particularly not as our eldest got to grips with the numerous books gifted to her by doting relations.

The week off work also gave Rachel and I a little space to discuss our futures once again. I had, of course, kept her updated with my conversations with Chris Tipping, and with the league table looking highly favourable going into the business end, there was a very real possibility that, if Prestatyn continued their form, I could step down at the end of the season if I were inclined to do so.

The fact that my wife seemed to share the same view of my chairman did a great deal to confirm things in my own mind. The two of them obviously had very different priorities for my life, yet both seemed to agree - to move out of football entirely would be foolish, but to stay in the Prestatyn hotseat would be to risk my own welfare and that of my family. By the end of the season I would have had six years in charge at Bastion Gardens, and the team was in place to perform at a high level for many more to come. As much as I hated to admit that, that could now continue with or without me.

With the conclusion reached, it was tempting to let Gary take charge for the Boxing Day clash with Newtown, but it would have been unfair to spring it on him at such a late stage. Besides, we had walloped our League Cup final opponents 4-1 in our first meeting of the season, and with plenty of families - my own included - in the stands for a bumper crowd, we were hopeful of another big win.

In the end it came, although we were made to wait a little. The visitors took us in level at the interval by cancelling out captain Knight’s early strike, but that was as good as they got. Our captain took 10 minutes of the second half to double his tally and then it was over to Matty Price to ice the cake, his first a rising, angled shot from the edge of the area and his second an impudent chip from the ‘D’ that had Bastion Gardens on its feet in appreciation. Our visitors seemed to be overawed by our style of play, and the matching 4-1 results made promising reading ahead of the May cup final.

There would be plenty of football played between now and then, but with my side focused on the title and Newtown on doing enough to keep their heads above the water, the fortunes of the two clubs could not have been more varied. We were on for a domestic treble - they would be happy with mere survival.

And yet, despite the euphoria of a thumping victory, the match and the surrounding joy was just part of the warm, fuzzy feeling that seemed to have enveloped me over Christmas. We were six points clear, would not play again until the New Year, Rachel and I had come to some sort of decision on the end of the season - although I had no idea what would happen if we blew the title - and the girls were happy and healthy. Life, to be short, was good in the Williams household.

[EvilDave]

If December had been a good month despite the on-field goings-on, January was even better because of them. The signs were there just 20 minutes into our first game of the away in Carmarthen when young Anderson headed in the opener with what must already have been our 10th effort on goal. By the time the full-time whistle, our strikers had got in the act with three more, and the 4-0 win was the best possible way to head into the new year.

By the end of the month, only Rhyl had managed to get in our way, our local rivals resorting to their overly physical tactics to snatch a draw down the road at Belle Vue. By that time, however, we had already put another couple of points on our table-top lead over TNS, who suffered their second season of the season to the league’s surprise package, Haverfordwest. As they suffered defeat we pulled clear by edging out Bangor through Kinsella’s strike, and then blew Aberystwyth apart on the back of Guy Clarke hat-trick, his first treble as a professional providing plenty of happy memories for years to come.

A trip down to face Afan Lido in Port Talbot was a little more restrained, but the 1-0 win was just as comfortable, Andy Grant’s early goal giving us a level of control which was rarely challenged by our hosts. The slip-up at Rhyl saw our lead cut from nine to seven at the top, but four days later we were able to dust ourselves down as get revenge - a beautifully late strike from Matty Price sending last year’s conquerors Goytre United tumbling out of the Welsh Cup in the fourth round. The draw paired us with another non-league outfit in Hawarden, and the treble remained on.

So comfortable did we look at times that one bookmaker came perilously close to paying out on a Prestatyn title win. As the humble manager, it was not something I got myself involved in, but I was told by at least three sources that it took the personal intervention of chairman Chris Tipping to stop them declaring early. Again, I have no idea how these things work, but I imagine the phone call cost him at least some of his pride, and I was grateful for his humility.

Still, with 22 of the 32 games played in the Premier League, the fact was that we sat very comfortably above first TNS and then Haverfordwest, with Rhyl, Bala and Bangor making up the remainder of the top six. If we could make it through those last two sets of home and away with a record even slightly worse than our rivals, we would be champions. It was a very attractive prospect, and it also meant that as of June, I would no longer be managing Prestatyn. I still did not know what to make of that fact.

[tenthreeleader]

Bittersweet, it seems. You've got a nice machine built there, Dave.

[EvilDave]

Thanks 10-3. Although...

--

“Owain, it’s Chris. How are you feeling?”

As much as I appreciated his concern, a call from my chairman was not what I needed at this moment in time. The previous night I had returned from our game at Bangor in a fit of rage, and had only let the players leave at 11pm, satisfied that they would not put in a performance like that again. I myself had stayed at Bastion Gardens all night, leaving Rachel and the girls on their own as I pored over what had gone wrong. As a result, I was bitterly tired and not feeling too proud of myself.

“I’m fine Chris, I’m fine. And I’m sorry too.”

“It isn’t me you need to be apologising to Owain, and you know that. You’re too hard on yourself with this sort of thing - it’s exactly what I told you before.”

“That might be the case, but did you see us last night? Rhyl was bad enough, but last night was something else. Five, in case you lost count. Five. At Bangor of all places. I don’t know why we don’t just give Ardley the damned trophy now and be done with it.”

“Listen to yourself man! Last night was bad, I’ll give you that. Terrible even, although Richard’s goal was a good hit. But these things just happen sometimes - it’s only the third loss all season, do you have any idea how good a record that is?”

“It’s not as good…”

“No, it isn’t as good as TNS last year, and it was never going to be. Drop it. Dropping points in Rhyl was frustrating but TNS did the same last night, and last week we stuck four past Bala. For crying out loud Owain, we’re six points ahead and you’re giving up!”

“I’m not giving up, I’m just…”

“Frustrated? Angry? Upset? By the players who’ve given you everything? You’re going strong on three fronts, there’s still the chance of that treble, and you’re angry because of one defeat. Go home Owain, go and see your wife, and get Gary to take training today. This is what I’ve been talking about before.”

“...You’re right Chris, you always are. I’m still sorry, by the way.”

“I know you are. Now get out of my stadium.”

Get out I did, and I returned home in tears to Rachel as I attempted to explain quite what had happened to me the night before. As lovingly as ever, she admitted that she didn’t fully understand, but knew how important the team was to me and how invested I was.

More importantly, she also forgave me. So did the team, when I addressed them both at the next training session and before our 2-1 win over Haverfordwest. I found it much harder to forgive myself.

[EvilDave]

I had to try somehow, and if somehow that elongated moment of madness did not become the defining memory of the season, I would be satisfied. It had almost certainly consolidated one thing however - Chris and Rachel were both right to think I was perhaps a little too caught up in the progress of Prestatyn Town.

Yet that progress was my day job, and the thing I loved to be involved in. After seeing off Haverfordwest we were headed for Flintshire and the castle town of Hawarden for our Welsh Cup quarter-final, game which, if we won, would take us one step closer to the fabled treble which had remained unclaimed for a decade and a half. That Rhyl were the last team to do it only added fuel to the fire for me and the team.

Cup clashes against smaller teams have been the source of much frustration for the Premier League sides over the last few years, and after last year’s embarrassment at the hands of Goytre we were all too familiar of the dangers we faced in putting out a slightly rotated side. I reinforced the need to go out strong in the dressing room beforehand, and in front of our hosts’ biggest crowd of the season, proceeded to take a fifth minute lead when the lesser-spotted Huw Lewis headed in a Mullan free-kick.

That took a huge amount of the pressure off, and with the minnows now having to chase the game they were unable to sit back and soak up our pressure. Guy Clarke had a superb game up front, regularly dropping back into midfield and making things happen with his vision and passing ability, and it was the youngster’s delightful chip which set up Ian Sullivan for the clinching goal in the second half. Two goals would always be enough, and we were pulled out to take on Lido in the last four later that evening.

One of the reasons for rotation was the need to satisfy some of the fringe players’ desire for action, but the main one was to keep our frontline stars fresh for the Premier League title run-in. With six games to go we led by six points, and our nearest challengers were about to come to Bastion Gardens. TNS were coming to town, and a win over Ardley’s men would almost certainly clinch the crown.

Coming off the back of a quarter-final success of their own, the Oswestry side were more tired, their detestable manager electing to field a full-strength side as they brushed aside Cefn Druids. Another large crowd greeted us as we stepped onto the field, and again I asked for a fast start to try and catch them off-guard. After 15 minutes, we had established control, but the score remained locked at 0-0 and we reverted back to our original gameplan. We looked better, and I saw no reason to tailor our game to a weak opponent.

As half-time approached, the match was settling into a rhythm that I found both encouraging and unnerving. Zola or Scotcher would win the ball in midfield, involve one of the two wingers in a series of short passes, and one of the three would then try and find Frater or Knight in space for a shot. Time after time that crucial final ball was either misplaced or intercepted, however, and on the rare occasion that our two frontmen did find the ball at their feet, they would be closed down too quickly and produce a shot that Wormley was equal to in goal. We did not look like conceding, but with such control I expected TNS to break out at any moment.

The second half saw more of the same, and then with 20 minutes to go, they made their move. Our old enemy Gerard Kirk found himself unwatched out on the left wing, and after receiving a pass drifted infield with consummate ease. Edwards tried and failed to make the tackle, and his powerful shot flashed by Wilson before our goalkeeper could shift his feet.

Bastion Gardens gasped as the ball cracked off the crossbar and bounced to safety, where Richard Nicholls calmly collected and fed our midfield for an attack of our own. It was the closest either side would get to a winner, and it was a rare goalless draw that would be submitted by the officials. Having controlled so much of the game it was disappointing not to emerge victorious, but it was one less game that TNS could use to try and overhaul us. Six points, five games - the numbers sounded good.

[tenthreeleader]

Draw isn't bad there, Dave. Obviously you'd like more though. I trust you have goal difference on TNS too?

[EvilDave]

The numbers sounded slightly less impressive a week later, when once again Rhyl were the hurdle we just couldn’t clear. The perfect start was given to as Sullivan raced clear inside two minutes, but all too easily we let them back into the game through some sloppy passing, and in the blink of an eye saw our slim lead turn into a 2-1 deficit at the break.

We were handed a way back into the match just after the interval through an own goal, and from then on it was all-action, caution-to-the-wind football from both teams. The flow of attacks seemed more akin to the NBA than the Welsh Premier League, with first one side and then the other flooding forward seemingly at will. Both goalkeepers were kept very busy, and it was Wilson who cracked first - an angled drive from winger Matthews beating him to find the far top corner of the net. We were 3-2 down, and needed something quickly.

Thankfully, our own wingers were in good form, and it was through one of them that we clawed back a point with 15 minutes still to play. Another Rhyl attack broke down between defence and midfield, and Zola picked up the pieces, feeding Knight whose flick found Mullan on the right. Our Manchester United trainee looked up, and with a sweep of the right boot launched a 30-yard diagonal ball for Price to take on his chest and smash beyond the goalkeeper’s despairing dive. It was a lovely piece of football, and one which earned us a valuable point.

With TNS failing to falter, our lead at the top fell from six to four with as many games still to play, and although we felt the presence of the Oswestry traitors a little more closely than we had done the previous week, we were still safe in the knowledge that wins in the three matches before our final day showdown would see wrap up the title ahead of schedule. That was the aim, and it was with that in mind that we headed to Maes Tegid and our clash with Bala.

We had been getting some good luck with own goals this season, and when another swept us in front inside 90 seconds, we had the best possible start. In truth though, we didn’t need Bala’s help to get past them - Tomi Morgan’s side were as poor as we’d seen seen them, and from the moment Kinsella had the net rippling 10 minutes later the points were secure. Our hosts were at sixes and sevens defensively, playing as if they’d never met, and it was easy to see how the likes of Haverfordwest and Rhyl were no longer treating them as having a hold over third place. We grabbed a third goal in a down-tempo second half, and moved a step closer to the title.

A curiously-timed international was next on the horizon, and we had two weeks to prepare for our next game and a chance for revenge on the Bangor side which had so ruthlessly dismantled us in our last meeting. It was not a match I was relishing, and my own preparations was as much mental as tactical. I also needed to speak to Rachel.

She knew that for the next month, I was likely to become far too absorbed in Prestatyn’s fortunes. More than that, she was willing to accept it - we stood on the brink of history, and only TNS and the underdogs of Newtown and Lido stood in our way. If we landed the treble, it would my finest managerial achievement by a distance, and the perfect legacy.

She understood all that. She knew how much it meant, how invested I was in the goings-on at Bastion Gardens. But she had needs too - she needed her husband, Bethan and Rebecca needed their father, I needed to call it a day. For the first time since the matter had been raised with Chris, Rachel actually asked me to step down at the end of the season - whatever the outcome. It stopped me in my tracks, and in a moment of clarity it made perfect sense. If we did it, I would leave on top of the Welsh game. If I didn’t do it this year, I probably never would.

[EvilDave]

Our May Day date with destiny should have started with a confident squad at Bastion Gardens. After all, we had scored three in our last two games, and were unbeaten in our last five games which included a dominant draw against TNS. However, game number six had been that horrific 5-1 hammering at the hands of Bangor, and it was those same local rivals who made the short trip into Prestatyn for the game. If we won and TNS lost their game against Rhyl, we could be crowned champions today, but they were not the thoughts on our mind - we just needed to do better than 5-1.

With a bumper crowd packed into the stands - our highest of the season so far - we got off to a positive start, Nicholls feeding Knight for a quick snapshot which forced the visiting keeper into an early save. The corner came to nothing, but our warning had been sent and it got the crowd straight behind us. The handful of blue-shirted Bangor supporters seemed lost in our sea of red, and it felt as if the supporters were making a tangible difference.

And as our fans willing the ball into the Bangor net, so my players obliged. With 14 minutes on the clock, Ian Sullivan was the first man to a flick from our skipper and lashed the ball into the net for a 1-0 lead. Five minutes later, the same man sent a free-kick skidding beneath the wall and into the bottom corner, and all our pre-match nerves had evaporated in record time. A mere 10 minutes later, a neat passing move led to Knight laying one off for Scotcher, and our midfield star bent one into the top corner from 20 yards out. It was the perfect goal, and at 3-0 Bangor were dead and buried.

That was how things stayed until the final whistle, a disallowed fourth for substitute Clarke doing little to dampen our sky-high spirits, and it was with baited breath that we waited to see if TNS had handed us the title. The score from Rhyl was an exhilarating 4-2, but it was Ardley’s men who had come out on top, and score we would have to wait at least one more round to confirm our position as champions. It was so close, we could almost touch it.

One thing that I did have to hide throughout the match was my own emotional baggage. While a regulation league game against Bangor should not leave me fighting back tears, after the first goal went in I realised it would be my last home game as Prestatyn manager. I had told Chris, Rachel was aware of my plans, but that was all. I hadn’t told the players,the staff hadn’t had a word, and the fans were certainly none the wiser. Listening to the chants, the roars, the voices singing my name - to be leaving it all behind, to be potentially lifting three trophies on foreign soil, it was all a bit much. I had no idea how I’d cope if we did lift the trophy.

Before we reached that moment however, we had the small matter of a Welsh Cup semi-final against Afan Lido to contend with. Whereas the Bangor game had seen an early flurry settle matters, we were left waiting a little longer before making sure of our progression here. Scotcher did strike early to give us the lead, but Lido levelled before the break to set up a nervous second 45. Surely we could not come so far to throw it away?

Thankfully, we had the legs to go all the way. As both teams began to fade in the final stages, Zola made one last lung-busting run into the area. As he drew back to shoot, his standing leg was taken from beneath him, and the referee had little choice but to signal to the spot. Up stepped the fearless Guy Clarke to tuck home the penalty, and four minutes later he netted from open play to book our place in the final. Of course, our opponents would be none other than TNS - the English side beating Carmarthen in the other semi-final - and once again our place in history would be determined by a battle between myself and Neal Ardley. Destiny was clearly not a fan of change.

[EvilDave]

With Bastion Gardens now a memory, albeit a raw, tear-soaked joy of a memory, we had a chance to confirm the position we had held since the opening day of the season and our 4-1 thumping of Bala. The calendar’s symmetry had not been quite perfect, but the equation was nevertheless very simple indeed - if we could go to Haverfordwest and win, we would be crowned champions of the Welsh Premier League for the third time in six years. It would be our most emphatic title so far, having led from day one, and it would be my last.

It was perhaps fitting that the man who opened the scoring was the man who became one of my first signings at Prestatyn, a man who had carried the hopes and dreams of this little club for the past half decade and who could always be relied on for a huge goal. Josh Knight was synonymous with our adopted corner of Denbighshire, and it was his deft finish after just five minutes that put us on the road to glory.

If anything, we had taken the lead too early. Haverfordwest had surprised everyone this season by keeping pace with TNS for much of the year, and although the gap had widened they were still comfortably of third place. Luke Jenkins had played a huge role in their success, and when their top scorer rolled his way round the imposing frame of Evans and sent a left-footed bullet beyond the reach of Wilson, all of a sudden we were level again. Our live text updates told us the 1-1 scoreline was being repeated between TNS and Bala over the border, and so the league was still ours. Another goal, and it was guaranteed.

We did not score one goal, but two in the space of four prayer-answering minutes for everyone associated with Prestatyn. The first came from another who had grown up with the club, another who had given up so much for the sake of the team. Again Knight was involved, and it was his headed knock-down that fell so perfectly for Elliot Scotcher to steer into the bottom corner and put us 2-1 up. Our away support, swelled in number by the prospect of a title win, started their songs of triumph, and a wave of relief washed over me on the bench.

Four minutes later Prestatyn present gave way to the future, young Guy Clarke calmly sidestepping a defender in the box before planting his shot into the net. Clarke, presuming he stayed, would be a pivotal part of the club for years to come, and already he was proving his worth to the side. His goal, the goal that put to bed any thoughts of a Haverfordwest comeback, the goal that guaranteed us the league trophy, settled any lingering doubts among our faithful, and when the whistle blew some 20 minutes later, it was all over.

It was academic in the end - TNS 2-2 Bala was the final score from Oswestry - but that was not about to stop the team celebrating a famous win. There was the customary champagne in the dressing, countless interviews with everyone from the Rhyl Journal to BBC Cymru Wales, and so many variations of ‘We Are The Champions’ that it was easy to lose count. Against the vast resources of TNS, with the traditional footballing establishment against us, with my own mental fragility threatening at every corner, we had done it once again. We were champions.

Of course, the celebrations couldn’t go on too long - we had a cup final in a week after all - but the night was long and memorable for all the right reasons. We returned home to Prestatyn as heroes, and in the small hours I returned to Rachel completely at peace with my decision to leave. This was what it meant to go out on top, to quit when you’re ahead, to leave a lasting legacy. I would miss days like these, the highs and lows of the job, the intimate relationship with every single player. But few managers ever get to drink from the fountain of success, and Prestatyn had helped my cup to overflow. I was thirsty for more - but not at too high a price.

[tenthreeleader]

Lovely writing, Dave. This continues to be a wonderful read. Congratulations on reaching the summit again!

[EvilDave]

Thanks 10-3, the team has excelled itself this year!

--

From one success we had the opportunity to secure another at our neutral venue in Aberystwyth, as we took on Newtown for the League Cup. The least significant of the three trophies on offer to us, at this point its relative status was irrelevant - if we wanted a treble, we needed the lot. The League Cup was the first trophy I collected as Prestatyn boss, and I was keen to see it added to the cabinet in my final year.

Newtown were a team that had also reached the end of the season on a high, although for obvious reasons not quite as high as us. Stuck in the bottom half of the table for the split, they had managed to edge their way to safety with a four-game unbeaten streak, sending Carmarthen and Aberystwyth down in their place. If they could add some silverware to their campaign, it would probably rate as one of their best ever.

To do that, they would have to get past my team of men who had made winning a habit. They would have to overcome the odds, the momentum, and a partisan crowd in Aberystwyth, most of whom seemed to have travelled over from Prestatyn. When the referee blew his whistle to get things underway, the roar which greeted Knight and Clarke’s kick-off seemed more akin to a Champions League final than the League Cup.

The football that we produced in the opening 25 minutes, however, also belonged at the highest level of football. Poor Newtown simply did not know what had hit them, and indeed by the time the clock ticked into double figures we had taken a 2-0 lead. First it was Scotcher finishing the season with a run of goals, and then it was yet another own goal, a drilled cross from Richard Nicholls flashed beyond the goalkeeper by a combination of outstretched leg and bad fortune.

We were not about to let up, and our left side continued to torment our opponents. With 19 minutes gone we made it three, Martyn Kelly bursting into the area and finishing well, and then seven minutes again the diminutive winger repeated the trick, this time cutting back from the byline and blasting a shot high into the roof of the net from little more than six yards. We were 4-0 to the good with a just a quarter of the game gone, and Newtown had simply been blown away. We had played perfect football, and there was no coming back from this.

To their credit they didn’t give up completely, getting on the scoreboard shortly after the half-time interval, but in the final five minutes we iced the cake with a fifth that few could deny us. It came from the penalty spot, Josh Knight fittingly the man to send the keeper the wrong way, and it was the same man who moments later lifted the League Cup into the Aberystwyth sky. It was one of our best performances of the season, our opponents could do nothing about it, and it sealed the second leg of a treble that looked tantalisingly close.

This time we had just four days before our next match, but with the game in question being a rare dead rubber against TNS, I was less concerned about keeping the jubilation down. We never wanted to lose to the Englishmen, but if we did it would be with celebration as an excuse which would rankle with Ardley and his cronies. It seemed somewhat appropriate that my final two matches as Prestatyn boss would be against both the team and the man I despised above all others, a combination which has driven me to the brink of madness and which at the same time has driven this team to reach even higher and push our own boundaries. As much as it would all count for nothing in the long run, I could not bear the thought of that smug little man ending my reign with a defeat.

[EvilDave]

In the league game, with a quieter than usual Park Hall greeting the two sides due to the complete meaningless of the game, I expected very little in terms of on-field action. One of my thoughts had been to let Gary take the game as a final jibe at Ardley, but in the end my own pride got the better of me - the idea of TNS giving my Prestatyn side a champion’s guard of honour was too good to turn down.

At the same time, I was determined not to let my last league match end in defeat, and so it was a rotated but strong squad which took to the field in Oswestry. As it turned down, the lack of pressure on the players resulted in an highly entertaining affair, two goals from Knight book-ending a matching brace from our old enemy Kirk, and at 2-2 it satisfied both the few fans in attendance and my own desire not to be beaten. Ardley’s handshake, curt as it was, had the air of a man who had yet to beat us this season, and I enjoyed that particular sensation a great deal.

Of course, the main event was just three days later at Wrexham’s famous old Racecourse Ground. It was the ground I grew up dreaming of playing on, and now here I was, about to finish my spell with a team I barely acknowledged in my childhood, hoping to guide them to an unprecedented treble. The stars seemed to be aligned nicely.

As the national anthem was belted out - TNS hypocritically choosing not to sing the English tune in addition to ‘Land of my Fathers’ - it occurred to me how little there was between the two sides. Over the last six years we had taken three titles each, and added a number of cups to keep the trophy cabinets full. This season had seen us separated by just six points, and three of our five matches had ended in a draw, with only our first league encounter and the League Cup quarter-final - which went to extra time - ending with a clear winner. This season, we had claimed the upper hand, but in other years we had been dominated by our English enemies. As a one-off game, this was impossible to call.

Looking back six years, we had no right to even be here. TNS were the dominant force in Welsh football, Prestatyn a plucky afterthought with neither pedigree or hope. I had been just a small part of the dramatic change over that period, but we stood beside our rivals as equals, and indeed superiors. We were the champions, the best team in the land, and were 90 minutes from history. That number quickly changed to 45 after a first half full of midfield probing, snatched efforts and half-chances. Neither side was willing to gamble it all and come out on the wrong side, and neither I nor Ardley were going to change formulas which had worked so well for us over the years. Twisting was not an option when sticking had a proven record.

If I were to choose a way to end my time in charge of Prestatyn, beating TNS in a cup final to complete the treble would have been perfect. To end it with a goal apiece from Josh Knight and Craig Frater, the two men plucked from nothingness to become the most feared strike partnership in Wales, would have been asking a little too much. To request a missed penalty from Gerard Kirk, my least favourite Northern Irishman, would have been greedy.

And yet that is exactly how the scriptwriters saw fit to end it all - with Rhys Wilson parrying a penalty onto the post and Frater sealing the trophy with a towering header beyond Ross Wormley just five minutes later. With Neal Ardley’s head on his chest, with Josh Knight lifting the trophy into the air, with the Prestatyn end of the Racecourse Ground on their feet greeting their heroes. With another winner’s medal round my neck, with the treble secure, with history made. Whatever impossible was, we had achieved it, and we would be remembered forever.

My only problem now was how to step away from it all.

[displaced_seagull]

What a magical way to end it. Or is it not the end?....

Fantastic writing all the way through

[tenthreeleader]

That's a terrific job of club-building, Dave. I'd be very proud of that. And as always, very well written.

[EvilDave]

“Are you ready darling?”

As she straightened my tie, Rachel’s simple question made me think. Was I ready? Ready to step away from Prestatyn and football management for the time being? Ready to give my family the attention they deserved? I still wasn’t fully confident I could, but I knew what the right answer was, and the Welsh football media was already waiting for me to tell them what I had known for months.

“I guess I have to be,” I replied, turning to kiss her cheek. Five minutes later, I would walk through the doors to join chairman Chris Tipping and announce to the press that I was walking away from Bastion Gardens. They wouldn’t expect it, the papers would lead with it the following day, and that would be it.

The questions came thick and fast. Why now? Had I fallen out with the chairman? Was there enough money? Was I being approached for the Swansea job? What would I do next.

I tried my best to play the questions with a straight bat, and Chris helped hugely whenever I started to stumble. It was emotional, I couldn’t hide it, and it was inevitable that the most common picture in the papers was of me battling back the tears. It had been much worse the morning after the cup final, when I told the players through barely controlled sobs.

It hurt to leave behind the side that I had built. Within weeks of arriving I had signed a new team, and many of them remained with me to the last. The likes of Wilson, Scotcher, Knight and Frater had been there for all six years, and for some of the kids - Anderson, Nicholls and Sullivan - I was the only manager they had known. It hurt knowing that someone else would be stepping into my space, that they would be working to someone else’s plan, earning accolades for another manager. For some, there would be catch-ups and reunions aplenty, but for others there would be a slow drift and then silence. This was the end, and I struggled to embrace it.

But with the goodbyes said and done, the contract cancelled and the speeches given, all I had to do was walk out of Bastion Gardens one last time with my wife and daughters, to ride off into the sunset and leave behind nothing but a legacy and a foundation for future success. With Chris at the helm the club would be fine, and I had to humble my own pride to realise that life at the ground would go on long after me.

The next morning, the four of us boarded a flight bound for Pisa and three weeks in the Tuscan hills. With no football in sight, no summer signings waiting to be made, no fitness tests to plan or tactics to devise, I was a little lost for the first few days. With my beautiful family, stunning surroundings, summer sun and the famous Italian cuisine, I soon got over my anxieties.

It would not always be this easy. But as long as it was, I thoroughly intended to enjoy myself. I may not have earned it the conventional way, but Rachel convinced me I had deserved a break. And I was more than happy to agree.

--

Thank you very much for the kind words gentlemen, and thank you to everyone who has read, commented and indeed voted for this story since it began many moons ago. I've very much enjoyed writing Owain's story - he may well make further FMS appearances - and building my little empire in Prestatyn. But all good things must come to an end, and it seemed like the right way to end things. Thank you once again, and for the time being from Owain and family, goodbye!

[mark wilson27]

EvilDave I know I haven't commented much on this story but it has been one of my favourite stories on the forum and well worth any accolade it has received in the past and future

[tenthreeleader]

Superb work, Dave. You've got a lot to be proud of here. There's good character work, very nice match writing, and oh, a pretty good football club you built.

A tip of the cap to you, sir!

[displaced_seagull]

Absolutely superb work, all the way through. Well done

[neilhoskins77]

Congratulations on a fine piece of work EvilDave. I hope Owain is back at the helm of another Welsh club soon.

[edtheguy]

This was a thoroughly enjoyable read, thank you and great work! I'm looking forward to your next project!