Los Coladeros, Episode 3: Trust Falls
It’s an arduous Chug back to Seville from Catalonia. The more experienced players decide to fly, but not me, Susan and the younger lads. We’re in this together… and also, we can’t afford it. We’ve got a week until our next game against the team setting the early pace in the D2B3, Gimnástic Tarragona — commonly known as Nástic — and I’m obviously a little concerned after the way Hospitalet eased their way past us last time out. There’s not a lot I can do, though — with the transfer window shut until mid-December, I’m stuck with the players I’ve got until then at least, and to be fair, we haven’t started badly at all. We just need to keep winning, and stay hydrated. Both aren’t as easy as they sound.
Nástic don’t have any hilariously-named players, unfortunately, but they do have an absolutely dynamite striker in the form of Santiago Castillejo who’s played two, scored two, and assisted two this season — so we’ll need to keep an eye out for him. Otherwise though, we pick up the stragglers on the way past the airport and gather ourselves at La Cartuja for some warm-weather training. There’s no choice in it, really; it’s still 95 degrees outside.
We’ll retain largely the same team from the last game, not because I don’t want to rotate, but because we’re a bit short-handed and under-legged. I decide it’s time to rest 16-year-old midfielder Steeve Gustan after he’s tried his best, bless him, but really should get back to school — so he drops out and is replaced by Lio Tarachalski in a move that has really cramped my midfield letter-wise.
The Cartuja Ultras are waving their flags in the stands, finally — took a while to get the club shop off the ground since everyone spends August on holiday — and we’re ready for our first top-of-the-table clash. How do you say “let’s have it” in Spanish?
A cagey opening sees 20 minutes go by with no commentary, and the mood around La Cartuja is tense as Zevenbergen is fouled on the right, and Jamie Victory stands over the free-kick. He whips it towards goal, the wall deflects it up into the sky, and Richard Smith decides to hell with it and catches the dropping ball on the volley!! SPECTACULAR save by Felip in the Nástic goal to turn the ball around the post!
The game is very dicey as we approach half time; in the 40th minute, Pinheiro fists away a long ball into our penalty area that provides a springboard for our second attack of the day. Adolfo finds Sestelo, who drives at the Nástic defence and hits a shot from the edge of the box — Felip saves! But Dunwell is there! MICHAEL DUNWELL! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL COLADEROOOOS! Dunwell grabs his third of the season to give us a just-about-warranted half-time lead.
It’s a great start that we just need to build on, so I give everyone thumbs ups and high fives at the break and point furiously towards a goal I’ve scrawled on the dressing room wall in pencil to implore the players to get the second — and blow me down, it works. Five minutes into the second half, Zevenbergen and Adolfo combine to find Sestelo wide on the right, and he crosses into the box for none other than Lio Tarachalski, whose only good attribute is Heading, to nod the ball into the ground and past Felip for 2–0 to the Rainmakers! Play to your strengths, that’s what I say.
It’s still a very close affair, with the only difference being the performances of each side’s back line. Ours stands so firm that Nástic can’t muster another effort on Hugo’s goal, whereas their two centre-backs look flakey in the face of my onrushing midfielders. I make my standard subs, try to keep everyone fresh, give Eduardo Benito a run for the last ten in place of Dunwell and he almost converts a Mustafa cross for his first goal of the season, but as it sails into the sea of tourists in row Z, the referee blows his final whistle to give us a resounding win over the form team in the division. Fantastic stuff.
Dean Gripton unearths a good-looking signing in Scandinavia by the name of Torbjörn Nilsson, a MRLC who would be a significant upgrade on practically all of my other midfielders by the looks of it. Other than Adolfo, we look a bit lightweight in there; Zevenbergen is just about holding his own and I suppose Tarachalski did score last time out, but Bruylandt and Gustan are very, very rough diamonds, and the incoming Mo Sissoko is going to need some time to get his beak wet before he’s ready for first team action as well. Having a more experienced hand in there to shore up our squishy centre and do all the ugly stuff properly, as well as probably get on the end of a few crosses before the season’s over, would be lovely. He wants decent wages, but that’s fine — he’s going to bring a lot to the table. A two-year, £45k deal is agreed quickly, and my first Swede is inbound for mid-December. Can’t wait.
I’ve been throwing contracts at ex-internationals on free transfers for months with no reward, mostly because they want far more than I’ve got and other teams sneak in to poach them from me — Taribo West, Juan Antonio Pizzi, Petter Norman Rudi and Guillermo Amor have all found new homes away from the blue skies of southern Spain in recent weeks. I’m rejected by Florin Răducioiu and Gazza for the thousandth time, and I’ve just about given up on the whole thing when I suddenly receive word from the agent of former Sheffield Wednesday mercenary Orlando Trustfull: he’s had enough of not earning any money, and has decided to accept my meagre wages for the chance to catch some rays on the stadium roof from Monday to Friday each week. He’s another experienced midfielder for my collection, and god knows we need more of them, so I agree the deal, and he’s in. In a few months.
Then, before I even have time to pick up my back-patter — it’s a glove on the end of a snooker cue that Susan got me a couple of years ago — my 3310 rings again. This time, it’s former Cameroon international striker Samuel Ipoua, whose contract has run out at Mainz, and having also played in France, Italy, and Austria, he’s looking to add another country to his European tour. I couldn’t be happier to have him here as a backup to Michael Dunwell — I won’t be telling him that, obviously — so that deal is confirmed for December too. Blimey. We’re starting to gather quite a squad here.
I’m a big fan of a former international player, as you might have noticed, but while I’m tempted to go back once again for Gazza and Zeus, at some point I’m going to have to start thinking about the uncomfortably long trip back to Catalonia for our upcoming game against 6th-placed Figueres. A brief glance tells me they basically look like everyone else in the league: they’ve got about four players who are too good for them, and the rest are just having a lovely time in the sunshine. Much like the Nástic encounter, I’m simply going to chuck eleven players out and hope for the best. No sense spending too long trying to… Figuer them out. Thanks.
Since we were so convincing last time, I’m going to keep the team exactly as it is: sweaty, malnourished, and raring to go. You two go at the back, the rest of you get forward and have some shots. Seems like a good plan to me.
We exchange chances in the opening ten minutes, as Sestelo tests home keeper Esteve Moner before Miguel Brau forces Pinheiro to fly to his left and push a drilled effort around the post. The action then fades for 20 minutes until Lio gathers a loose ball and smashes a shot over the bar with the keeper rooted to the spot, and then with the last action of the half, big Hugo is back on his line to parry a header from Rubén Blaya over the bar. All in all, the opening 45 is an even but not popcorn-scoffing affair.
We come in 0–0 at half time with Jordi Navas on a deckchair, and when we’ve only got two defenders to start with, I can’t be having that — so despite not having another centre-back on the bench, I throw Francisco Cobo into the fray for his debut alongside Smith for the second half. I try to explain where he’s playing, he definitely doesn’t understand, I’m sure it’ll be fine.
Cobo immediately headbutts Brau and manages to get away with just a booking, and my heart palpitates dramatically. Thankfully, Sergio Sestelo takes it upon himself to single-handedly keep the ball at the other end of the pitch for long enough that everyone forgets all about it. He forces a corner that Jamie Victory runs up to take, and then leaps through the sky to power home a header that gives us a 1–0 lead. A minute later, Figueres have the ball in the net themselves through a Quique finish inside the box, but they’re collectively screaming ¡PAYASOS! a minute later when it’s disallowed for offside. I know the feeling, I think.
Figuer-heads drop, and my local lads take advantage: Adolfo hits a low shot just wide, then makes a darting forward run into the box and finds Sestelo with a cross that Moner pushes away. From the resulting corner, Sestelo gives Victory the eye, and the pair replicate their previous effort with similar results: Jamie’s cross, Sergio’s header, 2–0 to the good guys, and that’s game, set and match. My goalkeeper and full-backs were fantastic, but make no mistake, this was the Sergio Sestelo show. The kid’s a player.
It seems to me, via a combination of my own twitchy nosing around plus reading reports from my far more professional scouting team, that most teams in the league outside of the ‘B’ sides follow a similar pattern: one good striker, one good winger, one good defender, everyone else crap. It feels like all we need to do is stop those players from doing their thing, and the wins are ours — and once Karl Ready is here to partner Richard Smith, there’s going to be no stopping us. Did you ever think you’d read those words in that order?
Despite being a good £150k in the red, the club are sticking steadfastly to my original transfer budget, which is now at £725k after my lavish spending over those ten wonderful summer nights. I summarily go back to Sporting for Ronaldo and Paiva with bids that even I consider derisory; I expect to hear nothing, and even if I do, I imagine they still won’t want to come, but I’ve got to try. I also bid £500k for Sir Les Ferdinand, since I’ve heard that works, and Spurs return wanting £600k — I say over 24 months, they say fine, but Sir Les isn’t ready to relocate just yet. It’s a shame. We could have done with his knightly presence in our squad, especially after my bids for Ronaldo and Paiva go south. Oh well. Maybe next year.
I ask Jimmy Graham, my assistant manager, to take training today as I consider my approach for our next game against Orihuela. They’re a curious bunch, to say the least. Two of their three ‘star’ players are both goalkeepers, which is a bit misleading: while it’s nice that one of their three finest will be on the bench, it belies the quality they have elsewhere. They’re sitting in mid-table at the moment, but like everyone else, they’ve got one really good creative midfielder and a potentially lethal striker. To try to neutralise the threat, I give Brian McGovern his first start alongside Smith in my back two, since everyone else I’ve tried in there has been rank up to now. Lio keeps his spot in midfield since I’ve been pleasantly surprised with him since he stepped up to the starting team, and there’s no shifting Sestelo or Dunwell from my side, mainly because their current backups are crap, but also they’re both in fine form.
There’s a distinct dearth of tactical magnetic whiteboards available in the tiendas of Seville, so I’ve taken to slapping slices of chorizo on the changing room walls and pointing at them so that everyone knows where they’re playing. Blending local culture with football acumen is what I’m all about, after all, and plus, everyone’s kits now come with a pleasant meaty scent. Susan assures me that none of the players are vegetarian, which is a relief. Tomato doesn’t stick to wall nearly as well.
The first 15 minutes are blood-and-thunder from both sides, stinging with attacking intent and shots on goal. On 13, a breakthrough is finally made: Pablo Couto gets into the box and hits a fierce shot that Pinheiro parries straight back to the striker, and he makes no mistake from the rebound to give the away side the lead — but straight from kick off, Ben Zevenbergen escapes down the right and wedges a cross to the far post, where Jamie Victory arrives and plunders his first Coladeros goal! 15 minutes gone, and the game is already sitting precariously at 1–1.
Tarkan is then very lucky to only get a yellow card for two-footing his way through the shins of Pineda on our right-hand side, and the game continues to be an end-to-end, back-and-forth affair. My only concern is that Orihuela are hitting the target regularly, whereas we’re slashing efforts into the Ultras behind the goal — and right on the stroke of half-time, my fears are realised. Right winger Nenu gets past Victory, who shadows him all the way, but can’t stop him putting over a deep far-post cross that Pineda heads down for Jesús Seba, that striker I mentioned in the build-up, to smash past Pinheiro and home to put us 2–1 down at the break.
My team are literally at sixes and sevens, save for Zevenbergen and Victory, but I find myself unable to work out what I should do about it. However, after staring at my substitutes for just long enough to make them shift around uncomfortably in their seats, I decide to make a change: Lio has been too quiet, Sestelo marked out of the game, and we need more firepower — so I drop Sergio into the left of my midfield three, hook Lio and put Eduardo Benito behind Dunwell. With 16 for Finishing, hopefully he can do a better job of hitting the target.
We dominate the opening stages of the second half, with Sestelo and Adolfo rejuvenated — both hit the target from good positions and we seem to be on top. In the 63rd minute, Dunwell is shoved to the ground inside the box but our penalty appeal is waved away. On 73, Quique Mateo wipes out Benito inside the box, but would you believe it — our second stonewall penalty appeal is turned down by referee Lizondo Cortés. It’s obviously not going to be our day, even when I go into full attack mode with two strikers and two AMCs, and to be fair, despite our continuous attacking intent, Orihuela’s defenders are almost always blocking the route to goal. They create a few more chances, Hugo fields them well, but in the end, we can’t sneak the equaliser that we definitely should have, and the game peters out to a disappointing 2–1 defeat. Not really sure how Hugo gets a 6 here — he made five very competent saves throughout the game, but I guess it doesn’t matter in the end. We’re forced to endure our first league defeat, and it stings.
Well, heads up. We’re still second in the table and doing well. Who have we got next?
Oh brother. Another long, sweaty bus journey to Catalonia… but this time, we’ve got a date with one of the big boys. Water bottles at the ready.
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