Diamond Geezers, Episode 2: The Rise of Ronaldo
A few days later, I manage to stop crying long enough to check my mail again. Having all the leagues on in the background is great for finding players, but also makes those teams highly active in the transfer market, and it’s killing me. Maxim Tsigalko rejects me but that was always expected. Most of my optimistic free transfer offers are being courted by far better clubs — I’m even going to struggle to get Jeff Kenna at this rate. What on earth have I gotten myself into?
Jim Rodwell, my 30-year-old centre half who I transfer-listed a while ago for earning too much money, will leave the club. No matter that he’s the only defender we’ve got that can tackle — I need that wage budget to prop up my extravagant transfer plans. He is allowed to go to Halifax Town with our best wishes and a thank you note. We don’t all have time to sign a card — we’re in crisis here.
Suddenly, my heart stops again. My offer for Tó Madeira is accepted, while the rest are rejected. I run to the contract meeting, pull a few hundred £20 notes out of my jacket pockets and thrust them into his face. I pray that, in the confusion, he accidentally signs on the dotted line. Please. Please.
I’m knocked back by Derby for Tonton Zola Moukoko. I would normally stop after being rejected at £1m, but in my despair, I go back with £2m. I need a win in the transfer market, and there are none forthcoming: Kennedy Bakircioglu, Sergey Nikiforenko, Kim Kallstrom and Stefan Selakovic are not interested. A single tear rolls down my cheek. I can’t take this.
Amazingly, West Brom do come back with a ridiculous £250k bid for John Dempster. At a point where I desperately need signings, not cash, I still feel forced to take it. It’s a crazy offer that I’l never get again, and besides — he’s not that good. I click Accept and wave him goodbye, certain that this won’t come back to haunt me later.
Then, finally, a shred of good news. The club shop goes into overdrive.
Ronaldo in, Dempster out. Sounds like a good day, doesn’t it? I’ll take it. I’m also going to try to do something about this stress headache.
Billy McKinlay turns me down, and when I go back to him, he’s doubled his wage demands, beyond my budget. Then, as my swearing reaches its peak, I see the next story in my inbox. And it’s something. Thank goodness, it’s something.
Agility 20? Jumping 19? Handling 13 and Age 38 but who’s counting — Bernard bloody Lama is in Irthlingborough!
I’m throwing bids around left and right at this point. I make an offer for a young Park Ji-Sung and a loan bid for Leon Knight. We’re about to embark on a glamorous pre-season tour of Wales, and my squad looks dangerously the same as it did when I started. I need some bodies, and I need them soon.
Loads of other offers for Tó Madeira are accepted, including from Braga, and my heart completely sinks. I know we won’t get him now. My only hope is that my offer of him being Indispensable will trump bigger clubs, who may only want him as a back-up. I try to push the devastation to one side and keep clicking Continue, praying for some good news. I need something, anything.
I hold my breath yet again. My fingers begin to turn blue. In the meantime, we complete a £50k deal for underrated Chris Brandon from Torquay, which is a relief. I always expected to get him, but after what I’ve been through so far, I feared the worst. He can play in attacking central midfield and will cause chaos in this league with his Acceleration, Dribbling, Finishing and Flair.
Byron Bubb also agrees to sign, which is excellent. My central midfield has been bolstered by two good young attacking players. I feel satiated. But I need some firepower.
In a shock move, Pep Guardiola decides for the slums of Celta Vigo over the grandeur of Nene Park. Whatever — we don’t need him. We’ve got, er… oh right. We haven’t got anybody. In the meantime, we’ve drawn Hartlepool in the first round of the League Cup — a winnable fixture against a Div 3 rival. I care little for this news. Where are my Nordic wonderkids?
Finally, I manage to get some transfers through the door. Firstly, the Billy McKinlay saga comes to an end — he arrives on a free transfer. And then, much more excitingly, Karlheinz Pflipsen packs up his one Germany cap and starts looking for houses in Northamptonshire. Understandably, the fans are beside themselves.
The board have loosened the purse strings even further and are now allowing me to offer £8,250 per week. Certain that this is financially prudent and will in no way hamstring me later, I begin re-offering contracts to players who have previously turned us down, like a hopeless husband buying petrol station flowers for his wife after an argument. Not the worst idea, but probably not going to make much difference.
However, despite my posturing, it’s too late for Tó Madeira and me. He accepts Braga’s offer, and my hero has slipped through my fingers. I forlornly look at today’s diary entry for any semblance of good news. We’ve got Caersws away in our first pre-season friendly. I consider locking myself in the stationery cupboard.
Right. To Wales we go. I pick what I think is my strongest team. We go with my preferred narrow 4–1–3–2 formation for now. I implore the lads to attack, tackle hard, press, tiki-taka, and catch every single opposition forward offside, which seems reasonable. I give Pflipsen a free role and put him and Underwood on set-pieces (15 and 16, respectively). I tell my full-backs to bomb forward and Brandon, Dribbling 16, to run with the ball whenever he gets it.
My four midfielders are all new signings and are all, theoretically, good enough to stamp their authority on any game, either on this tour or in the league. We’ve got former France international Bernard Lama in nets. One-time German international Karlheinz Pflipsen pulling the strings. Two of the quickest full-backs in the league bombing down the flanks. Cristiano flipping Ronaldo on the bench. You know what? Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.
The first half couldn’t be more one-sided. Jean-Michel Sigere gives us a deserved lead, but it could be four or five. Chris Brandon is wreaking havoc from midfield, and everything is going smoothly so far. Bernard Lama, to the surprise of absolutely no one, tries to give a penalty away but the referee waves it off. We aren’t winning many headers, but we’re winning the important ones, I assume. I’ll let that slide. Let’s focus on the positives. WE AREN’T TERRIBLE.
Five minutes into the second half, Brandon gets the goal his play has deserved. He already looks to be a very decent signing. Then, as I’m waiting to make my subs, Greg Lincoln is forced off with an injury. I ring the changes. This game is won — we don’t need to risk anybody else. I give young Ronaldo a jog in place of the ineffective Darby to see if he can make some headlines… and would you believe it.
Lincoln’s injury aside (he’s out for two weeks), a very satisfying start to pre-season. I feel buoyed, my spirits lifted. And it’s a good thing too, because there’s no time to rest — our second friendly against the giants of Cwmbran Town awaits in just two days’ time. I tell the lads to leave their kits on because there’s no time to wash them. Because most of the team is running on empty from the last game, I promote some reserve players to see if they’ve got the hunger to compete for places in my squad. Plus I give former Brentford striker Scott Partridge a start because I feel sorry for him (Finishing: 4).
Half time arrives quickly — our changed team cause far fewer problems, but guess who’s on hand to put us a goal up? A certain future 5-time Ballon D’or winner, that’s who. Lama makes one miraculous save to keep the score 1–0 at the break, and in truth, we barely deserve it. But I’ll take it.
The second half is a frustrating affair that many of you will recognise from playing these games over the years. We come out like a house on fire, dominating the game. Ronaldo and Bubb are peppering the Cwmbran goal but can’t find the net, and then, against the run of play, they go up the other end and equalise.
Frustrated, I make changes. It’s just a friendly anyway, and we’re playing well enough. I change my midfield three, and just for a laugh, I hook Partridge, put on Billy Turley in goal and throw Bernard Lama up front. Make a name for yourself, son.
With ten minutes to go, we get a penalty, which Billy McKinlay converts, and that’s how the game ends. No glory for veteran striker Lama, but an unexpected hero is emerging. Our man of the match caused chaos the entire game, scored once, won the penalty, and could have had a hat-trick. Tó Who?
As I’m preparing for my next game, more fantastic news arrives. We have, it would appear, a strike partnership — and we are running out of drawers to keep all these international caps in.
I’m asked to submit squad numbers. I give number 9 to Møller and leave 10 free on the off-chance that I might sign another striker before the season starts. I give Ronaldo the number 7 as a motivational tool. He has tears in his eyes as I hand him his new shirt. Good boy, Cristiano. Nene Park will always be your home. That ten-year contract your mum signed pretty much guarantees it.
Our final pre-season friendly is the big one: Aberystwyth Town at Park Avenue. A few changes to keep the team fresh, and we’re out in the Welsh air once more. Give them hell, lads.
Møller sends the Aberystwyth defenders into counselling at half time after an absolute battering in the opening 45 minutes. Two goals for the great Dane, with Byron Bubb vying for best supporting actor. Warburton scores a third, nodding in an Underwood corner, while Ronaldo hits the post and lowers the self-esteem of everyone in and around the penalty area. We are highly dangerous and heading back out for the second period.
Well, John O’Toole in the Aber nets lived up to his name in that match. We were dominant, but his last line of defence was like throwing custard on a bonfire. Simon Wormull added a fourth, and we ran out comfortable winners once again. I’m a little concerned that Pflipsen has barely registered on the commentary throughout our pre-season games, but it’s a minor concern. The important thing is that I no longer feel like crawling into bed and never coming out.
Well, that does it. We are officially kings of Wales. That was the challenge here, wasn’t it? Oh no, right, right. Premier League champions. I’m all giddy.
With our friendlies over, it’s time to get serious. We have 13 days until our league opener against Kidderminster and I only have one left back, and one right back. 16-year-old Delroy Gordon has a wonderful name and some decent stats for a young reserve right-back, but if we had to rely on him I’d be very worried; Tackling: 3 isn’t the foundation for any defence. Serious reinforcement is needed. It’s time to nip down the market and get to haggling.
