Back to the Foot-Ture: E11
I believe Paul Weller once sang “Shout to the Top”
Well, after I stand on a piece of Lego for the 14th time on the Tuesday after our victory against Dundee United — I proudly announce to the changing room that we have fulfilled the Mod Prophecy, only for someone to point out that Rangers won their game in hand.
No matter. When you are playing this well as a promoted side you absolutely cannot have any complaints.
I grab the Lego and the various blow-up dolls we’ve procured and leave them strewn all over the away dressing room. That is because we have yet another home game (Our 7th out of 11!) and we are welcoming the man, the myth, the philandering klepto-nuisance that is John Terry to Rugby Park with his Hearts team.
Other than Charly back in for Daniel Sinani, we keep exactly the same side that demolished the Tangerines of Dundee United and left just enough in the tank to fill a carton of pulpy Tropicana with their remains. Despite the fact John seems to have bought 14 players off me, the only ex-Killie player in the lineup is Matty Godden up front. He comes up to shake my hand and I knee him in the balls. John runs up and throws £40 at me — I’m not sure what this means.
Enzo and Melker miss early chances as Hearts offer as much attack as a soft bowl of warm fudge — stodgy and difficult to get through but it isn’t getting past Tom Glover. We eventually make the breakthrough when a move involving Charly and Enzo gets the ball to Scotty Fraser who slots home and the scoreline remains 1–0 at the half.
We continue to mount the pressure in the second half as Palaversa and Enzo both have shots wide and Robbo forces another save. I take to throwing small clumps of rubber at John Terry’s head, which the crowd in the stand notice and they celebrate when a perfect throw clocks him just above the eyeline, splattering dark pellets across his jawline. Scotty hits the bar as does Robbo, and despite Gary Mackay-Steven riverdancing through the defence and forcing two saves out of Glover in goal, its another 3 points.
I shake John’s hand at the end of the game and remove it to find a crisp £50 note in it. He tells me to ‘Keep the Change’ then grabs an unused water from behind the dugout and fucks off. Remarkable.
Malaly gets injured chasing a piece of silver paper in the wind, but we are at full strength for our next game. A top of the table clash with title-holders Rangers. We arrive at Ibrox on Saturday and the crowds are flooding in. As we exit the coach we are greeted with boos and jeers because…well because. We change and get out to warm up with a slight change of shape planned. The wingers drop back and we sacrifice Robbo for the reassuring presence of Big Kev in midfield.
Curiously, Rangers opt for the brute force of Gary Madine up front and in the first minute he has a goal chalked off for offside. The opening quarter is frenetic with Rangers making the running, with breakaways readily available for us, and Enzo nearly gives us the lead but a sliding James Tavernier clears off the line.
We grow into the game and Enzo forces another smart save from Fraser Forster (!). Jay is forced off to be replaced by Rodney Kongolo and his mistake gives the ball away, leading to Gary Madine aggressively assaulting his way through my defence and giving Rangers the lead. We press for an equaliser and a ball breaks to Kev on the 6 yard line…but he puts it wide. 1–0 at half-time.
After 15 more goalless minutes I bring on George for Melker and tell him to make something happen as he usually does. He does just that, by getting two fucking bookings in 20 minutes and getting sent off as we chase an equaliser.
I tell him to find his own fucking way home. Despite a good performance it’s frustrating to not pick up at least a point.
The next game is a long trip up north to face Ross County and the definitely-not-even-slightly-racist Malky MacKay. The press are singing the praises of Kenny Dougall, and rightly so — I send him and his girlfriend to a cabin in Aviemore for 3 days as a reward. This doesn’t end brilliantly as he joins up with us covered in scratches,muttering something about the cult of the haggis…I tell him its not The Wicker Man and to fuck off.
I’ve spent the week up in the Highlands trying to get any small advantage I can over the Staggies. I send a drone over their training ground, only to see Malky leading a seminar about the combined works of Michael Richards, Mel Gibson and Eric Clapton…I leave my scouting at that. I don’t need any more libel. I also wrap up deals for a new centre half for January. Not that we massively need him but I was bored and he has a surname with so many letters that it would make a Scrabble board spontaneously combust.
Melker has been a little subdued of late so I give Lewis Ferguson a chance to impress. Aapo Halme is fit and comes back into defence as the rest of the team and shape picks itself.
Robbo is an absolute menace in the first half and eventually gives us the lead with a textbook diving header on the stroke of half-time. Despite Kenny Dougall getting sent off for 2 bookings (suggestions of PTSD relating to his cult encounters is being investigated) they don’t even have a shot on goal. This continues in the second half with more chances missed and Ross County being terrible until the 90th minute when Scotty dances round a defender and curls one into the far corner. 2–0. Bye Bye Malky.
We roll around quickly to the following Saturday, as we weclome 3rd placed St Johnstone to Rugby Park. There is a large fireworks display planned for after the game — so I steadfastly avoid any ironic use of bringing fireworks to our performance. That would just be shoddy management and I will not stand for that kind of thing. Melker is recalled to the midfield rambler position and Big Kev comes back into the engine rooms next to the excellent Ante Palaversa.
Early efforts by Melker (Wide), Robbo (Saved) and Musonda (landing somewhere near Saltcoats) have us very much taking hold of the game. Unfortunately, St Johnstone are as stubborn as a 12ft putt on a sharply sloping green and we can’t break them down. Our only realy entertainment is a clearance by Peter Grant ricocheting into Callum Davidson, who then berates him for not shouting “Fore!”
I fear the second half following the pattern of the first when Scotty shoots wide, but a long ball through from Declan Gallagher of all people finds Enzo ghosting beyond the defence and he slots home to give us a precious lead. He doubles it just 5 minutes later as Ante finds Melker, who hits a first time ball into space and Enzo finishes with just the right level of aplomb. It’s nearly three when Scotty hits the bar on the hour, but we play the game out relatively trouble free and its another 3 points for the Killie Boys. Fire in the Disco!
The fireworks display is an excellent team bonding experience and family, friends and kids all turn up to watch as Killie legend Manuel Pascali sets them off. I hand him a yard of Peroni and we reminisce about DVT day and the Eremenko era.
A slightly unsavoury moment involving Alex Osborn and 14 bags of frozen peas sees him depart to Stenhousmuir on loan to join up with Kyle Connell. I scour the market again to see if any more opportunities present themselves but I draw a blank. Probably not a bad thing considering the club harmony at the moment is extraordinarily good.
We travel to Dens Park for our next game as we face Alan Stubbs home for mature offenders. Kenny Dougall is back from suspension to join the engine room and we have a number of other players close to fitness but not quite, so I resist any other changes. As we walk down the tunnel, I see the Dundee physio giving last minute sprays of WD40 to Jose Fonte’s knees while Jason Cummings and Paul McGowan appear to be trying to smuggle an old coffee machine out of a side office. This should be fun.
Its a tale of free-kicks in the first half mostly with Charlie Adam and Melker both forcing saves. After Scotty puts a couple of shots over, Melker gets a set-piece on 45 minutes and curls a delightful ball in for Robbo to nudge home and give us a 1–0 lead at half-time.
The second half is a bundle of shots as we somehow contrive to hit the woodwork 3 times in goalmouth scrambles and Harry Sharp morphs into Tim Howard. Finally on 80 minutes we get a clincher as Aapo Halme rises highest to meet a corner from Charly Musonda to bury his header past Sharp. It’s another 2–0 win — which is greeted by an unusual amount of excitement from the supporters. I understand when I look at the other scores…
PAUL WELLER!
Celtic have beaten Rangers in the Old Firm Derby meaning we are top of the table. The bus journey back is extraordinary, with MD 20/20 flying all over the seats as Big Kev leads us through a very strange back catalogue of 70s Americana. We get back to the ground and spill out into the town, finishing our night at around 5:00 throwing kebab meat at seagulls.
Next up, we have Jack Ross’ Beige and Beige army visiting Rugby Park. Our last encounter was a stodgy one as they had a man sent off and spent the entire time watching Josh Doig trying to dribble past everyone himself. I stick Scotty on man marking Doig for the occasion, by which I mean I tell him to kick the living fuck out of him any time he crosses the halfway line. We are unchanged as we walk out, other than Tony Watt handing in a transfer request because I broke his Xbox controller.
It’s a more even first half than our games of late, and Tom Glover has to be alert to save from Chris Cadden and Kevin Nisbet. Aapo nearly makes it 2 in 2 with a header from a corner but we go in after 45 minutes level.
I push the wingers up the park for the second half and we nearly open the scoring through Melker but his shot is well saved. Ex-Killie youth Liam Smith is dangerous for them and he creates a couple of openings in return. The game is drifting towards a drab 0–0 when Melker gets the ball in the middle of their half, looks up and hits a shot from 30 yards that crashes in off the crossbar to give us the lead! I jump into the fans behind the dugout in celebration as Melker gives the Hibs fans a well deserved ear-cupping. We make it safe in the final minute when Daniel Sinani gets his first goal for the club, sliding in to meet a cross from Charly Musonda.
2 fucking nil! Again!
I get a message from a pal saying that Tony Watt has announced on Twitch that he’s moving to Peterborough for £1 million quid — which I quickly confirm because fuck that guy. Follow up bids roll in from Preston and Accrington and after some more superb Keyser Soze-ing, its £1.4 million for him to jump on a train to Preston to get out of my fucking sight in January. Malaly is fit again so I send Tony to the reserves and tell him to go and play some fucking Frogger.
This sends us careering into Glasgow for a big test. Its Celtic away. They’ve picked up since their early season struggles and now sit in 3rd place. Malay comes back onto the bench in place of Tony and Jay is fit to replace Burgess on the bench. I decide to stay positive and look to attack Celtic, looking to fight fire with my own brand of super fire. Fire 2.0 if you will.
As with our other Old Firm encounters, we are firmly in the game. And also as per our other encounters we go 1–0 down early when Kyogo wriggles free and fires past Glover in the 14th minute. I finger the hipflask in my coat pocket expecting the worst again when just 3 minutes later, Melker plays one of those delicious passes through the defensive line and Enzo Crivelli runs onto it and slots past Hart at his near post to equalise!
It’s 1–1 at half-time but they are firmly on top. I withdraw the wingers back and Peter Grant is replaced by Jay before he gets sent off for just not being good enough. It doesn’t seem to help as McGregor scores just after the restart, forcing me to go all out attack. Malaly comes on as we go two up-top and Robbo misses a good chance, before Malaly hooks the ball into the box in the final minute, finding Melker in a yard of space. He controls and fires it towards goal……
Wide…
Shit….
