Back to the Foot-Ture: E12
God I hate Glasgow. From its stupid road system for driving through the city centre to its road system in general, I hate every inch of its concrete. Particularly those fragments that make up the fortresses of evil at Celtic Park and Ibrox.
It does feel like we are way ahead of schedule but I hate losing. So much so that I take on the entire squad in a game of Murderball — which is a game I made up, so that I can win something and feel better about myself — if a little annoyed about the amount of blood on the advertising hoardings. Ahh well.
Next up its off to Lanarkshire to visit the 50 shades of Meh that are Motherwell. Thursday and Friday in training have been particularly vicious, with Declan Gallagher getting a foot injury which puts him out for 3 weeks as we cross the threshold into December and the football management advent calendar which is contract-expiry season. I get bids in for another international and a young Scottish player and hastily offer terms to Robbo as the board and fans love him. I revert back to the usualish shape and lineup with Jay in for the injured Declan and let the boys run wild.
I’m still fielding messages from Ukrainian agents as we kick off and miss most of an even first half, only looking up to see a red being brandished at ‘Well keeper Scott Fox, who brought down Robbo clean through. Robbo dusts himself off and gives us the lead. Catts does the HT teamtalk and although both sides have goals disallowed in the second half, its a standard victory for the Killie Boys yet again.
We celebrate on the short trip back by live streaming Robbo signing a 3 year contract extension in sharpie on Big Kev’s back. It’s fair to say that the guy has absolute club idol status at the moment and I’m delighted as the video goes viral…although not so much when I realise that Tom Glover has got his balls out in the background. But my mood is significantly improved when Catts bundles the Heads of HR, PR and Media Relations out of the way on Sunday afternoon to tell me “We Got Him!”
Welcome, Mikkel Duelund — 525k from Dynamo Kiev on January 1st.
I bin our expiring Scottish contract bids when I realise that there are hefty compensation fees for U23 players moving domestically. That said, after the capture of our Danish marvel I am pretty satisfied with how our January arrivals shape up. I do cancel one move as I no longer think its required, but we have 3 incoming players, 2 of whom can contribute straight away.
I do with they were available for our next game, a league cup grudge match against The-Artist-Formerly-Known-As-Sevco-Caixinha. I make one change, with Rodney Kongolo coming into central defence because he looks miles better than Peter Grant. I eyeball Steven Gerrard as he emerges from the tunnel at Rugby Park and the home fans respond with a cacophony of noise. Celtic are out the cup so if we win this….
We make an awful start as we touch the ball twice in the opening 20 minutes and Kemar Roofe opens the scoring with a low drive past Glover. I push the wingers higher up the park and suddenly the pressing gives us some shape — which is rewarded when Scotty gets a loose ball and crosses for Robbo to volley in the equaliser 32 minutes in. 5 minutes later, Ante thunders into a challenge with Gary Madine and clatters the ball into their half. Enzo tries to control but is muscled off the ball, but a galloping Lewis Ferguson runs onto it, looks up and blast a shot high past Fraser Forster to give us the lead!
Ryan Kent misses a sitter bang on half-time, and we come out for the second half confidently, pinging the ball about like Cruyff’s Barcelona after 15 cans. Another fine move sees the ball break on the right hand side of the box and Scotty runs onto it majestically and curls the ball round the defender and inside Forster’s far post for 3–1! We bring on the experience of Big Kev and the randomness of Daniel Sinani and its the Luxembourger that gets a pass from Robbo to fire home and make it 4–1 after 70 minutes. They have a late rally and Glover makes a good save from Roofe, but it is a comprehensive, tax avoiding, season ticket 10 years in the future selling victory. A real fucking statement.
I review the match in the wee hours and I can’t see any angle that the game didnt go brilliantly from. It wasn’t a weakened Rangers side and we were absolutely clinical. Apparently Steven Gerrard was moaning at the antics of Scotty and Charly on the wings, but given he had the constantly horizontal Jack Clarke, I bat this back at him in the press-conference I hold the following morning, whilst being effusive in the praise of our Croatian rockstar Palaversa, who has been getting rave reviews for his consistent performances. I’m also questioned about Scotty apparently being linked with Hibs in a £9.75m move — which I deny and laugh about mercilessly at the thought of that much money existing in Leith (outwith the tram project).
3 days later we take the trip across the M8 to Tynecastle, where the Gorgie faithful are getting increasingly irritated by the results of their side orchestrated by the world’s worst Dell Boy impersonator JT. He’s just spent £160k getting the club name engraved on the seats in the function suite.
Anyway we rock up and remain unchanged. We lineup against Ikechi, Stokesy and Matt Godden, who are augmented by Robbie Brady and Freddie Sears. It’s an interesting mix.
Robbo gives us the lead early doors, running onto a pass from Charly to shoot high into the net past Ross Stewart. It’s an even game though as Hearts create a couple of chances which Glover does well to save. Just before the interval, the jinking Scotty gets a yard of space and hangs a cross to the back post for Robbo to steam in and hit on the volley….YAS! 2–0 at the break ya dancer!
John Terry returns for the second half adorned in a full 97–98 Hearts kit and I pretend to be surprised. What isn’t surprising is Enzo getting on the scoresheet on 50 minutes after a raking ball from Dougall finds him in the box. Hearts still keep pushing and Glover makes another save from Sears, but the ever-improving Lewis Ferguson scores after a cut-back from Sinani to wrap up a lovely 4–0 win.
John Terry comes up and shakes my hand, wearing a full vintage 1992 Strongbow Hearts kit and offers me £1400 for my watch. It’s a basic Casio. I accept with glee and we head back through West, armed with as many bottles of rum as we can carry without breaching Pirate code.
I agree to let Alex Osborn move on a free to Cowdenbeath as I’ve had one too many calls about him joyriding down in Largs and tell him to get into Stock Cars. Nice lad, just not quite good enough for this level. He’s doing donuts in the car park when the Sheeple of Aberdeen arrive. I greet Stephen Glass with a nod then head in and tell the boys to get ready. Lewis Ferguson retains his spot in midfield and we line-up as per usual.
The stands are still filling up when a shot from Lewis is saved, but the rebound drops sweetly to Enzo to put us ahead in the 2nd minute. It’s a really good first half, with Enzo forcing another good save and Ramirez nearly getting the equaliser with a header that kisses the outside of the post. We go back out for the second half but it’s a sea of red — leading to a deserved Aberdeen equaliser on 55 minutes. I bring on Melker for the infuriatingly inconsistent Lewis and he hits a drive over the bar.
Goalscorer Thompson gets injured for Aberdeen meaning they reshuffle, and this hands us a grip of the game. It’s Charly Musonda who picks the ball up on the left, drives at the defence and draws his man before pulling the ball back to Palaversa to curl an effort in to give us the lead on 71 minutes. Aberdeen hit back though and Tom Glover denies Jay-Emmanuel Thomas (who must be at least 45). They then lose McCrorie to a second yellow with 10 mins left, and a slightly nervy finish is calmed by Big Kev nodding in an Ante cross.
I have absolutely no time to recover or celebrate as its time for a revenge-grudge-monster-bigger-than-that-time-that-Vin-Diesel-fought-a-zombie-car-army-with-another-car-that-was-more-car-than-every-other-car.
It’s Rangers at home.
Jay is suspended so Cam Burgess comes into defence and otherwise its an unchanged unit yet again. They lost last time out to Livingston, giving us the top of the table again. I will not — I repeat not — fucking relinquish it this time.
Crivelli and Robbo test McGregor in the opening 5 minutes, and then a shot from Musonda is saved into the path of….ENZO! 1–0! And 7 minutes later its 2–0 as Lewis Ferguson fires in a rocket after a lay-off from Enzo and Rugby Park is rocking like a CGI Boat disaster movie — only with more beer and cheering and less “Rose, I’m a bawbag” moments.
Sometimes you either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the Bawbag. At the break it I’d clear that I’m the fucking bawbag, as Roofe and Kent both score before half-time to make it 2–2. I’m absolutely furious and tear a strip off the players for letting an early advantage slip away. Robbo has been anonymous so I bring on Daniel to provide some landlocked guile as we kick off the second half. ith their 3rd shot on target, they make it 3–2 through fucking Roofe again and we are suddenly 3–2 down after 47 minutes.
I throw caution to the wind, bringing on Malaly and Grant to replace Scotty and the fucking awful Burgess and watch on as we contrive to miss chance after chance…until in the 73rd minute Ferguson gets a pass from Palaversa and sends a beautiful effort past McGregor to tie-it-up at 3–3. Enzo has a shot saved and Kent puts a free-kick just over as both sides push for a winner, but its not to be for either side.
3–3. Hand me the fucking Valium.
If it wasn’t for a Makalamby-esque performance from Glover, we would have had 3 points. I throw a bottle of energy juice at him and tell him he doesn’t deserve to live before skulking off to my office to watch repeats of Frasier and to throw darts at my Gerrard cutout.
I resist temptation to drop Glover and instead send him a vaguely threatening Whatsapp message threatening something involving a Kangaroo and a toffee hammer. He’s fully focused for our next visit, a trip to the Fusilli Cauldron to face Livingston. Give its our 6th game in 15 days, I have to make some changes. Halme & Musonda drop to the bench with Sinani and Declan coming in, and I tell Cam Burgess to fuck off quickly and bring in Peter Grant.
We look petulant in the first half and create little up until Enzo finshes a cross from the lively Sinani to give us a 1–0 lead in a thoroughly boring game. Scotty seems to have missed out on a late sale in the outlet, so he comes off for George Byers and Robbo goes wide as I push the wingers up the park to look for a killer second.
We get the second just after the hour as the excellent Sinani crosses for Robbo to head in, allowing me to take Enzo and Ante off and give them some much deserved rest as I have a little nap.
Unfortunately I hand the 4th official Daniel’s number, and he comes off for Malaly. What follows is Livi scoring twice in 5 minutes, nearly winning the game but for a save by Glover then George Byers hitting the post with the last kick of the game
FUCK.
I’m not too hard on the players after the game. I tell them I don’t want to see them til Boxing day as they’ve been run into the ground recently. I have a quick scour of the transfer market as we definitely need a little depth, over and above the incoming moves on the 1st of January.
After a Christmas spent debating the merits of the Golden Boot trophy, we stay in a Travellodge outside Dundee and turn up at the ground wearing no shoes as a Partridge tribute. No messing about, it’s full strength lager about to be thrown in the eyes of the Tangerines.
After his lively performance last time out, Sinani continues and tests Siegrist early with a header. We continue to create chances and get the opener from Robbo just before the half-hour. We continue to dominate and create a staggering number of chances, only for United to equalise with their only shot of the half.
Lewis Ferguson comes off for Charly at half-time and I tell the players that a 3rd draw on the spin from a winning position will lead to double sessions every day for a week. After a couple of Maxime Biamou related scares, we start to press with 20 minutes left and its Steve-Irwin-Fanclub-Running Kenny Dougall who gets the breakthrough with 10 to go, followed by Melker hammering a shot home via deflection from the edge of the box to secure the 3 points.
We head out on the town and head back down the road on the 28th after a memorable night in the V&A museum, which culminates in three of the squad getting electronically tagged for a month.
But now its time for the real Christmas. We leave Tony Watt outside the doors of the ground for the binmen to transfer down to Preston, only to get a phonecall saying they don’t have the money to pay for him…Anyway, welcome in 4 new arrivals. Welcome Dujon, Goktan, Mikkel and Konstan…Kos…Kontisa…Kosta. Welcome Kostas.
Other than the gaping hole in my accounts,I’m delighted with the depth and quality we’ve brought in. We get acquainted, and set for another titanic tussle with Celtic at Rugby Park. I get the boys revved up and I’m convinced this will be our Old-Firm-League-Duck-Breaking performance. It’s a brisk -1 on the mercury, but the atmosphere is red hot inside the ground. Mikkel and Kosta come in for their debuts and Charly returns on the wing. We’re full strength and ready to rock.
We start the game well and Enzo has a shot saved, before Celtic roar back and hit the bar through the annoyingly Brazilian Wesley. They continue to make the running in the first half and we are probably lucky to be level at half time, despite a stonewall penalty being turned down for a foul on Robbo.
Celtic push forwards and hit the bar again through Abada, but we are absolutely game and have two shots over the bar. Unfortunately, we fall victim to the brilliance of Kyogo, who gets the ball on the hour, nutmegs Rodney and slots home to give the visitors a deserved lead.
We aren’t playing badly, so I stick with it and tell the boys to push on. We get more of the ball but do nothing with it until the 84th minute. Enzo does brilliantly to win the ball and hold it up and slides a path into Charly. 25 yards out, he picks a spot and curls an incredible effort round Hart and into the top right hand corner to equalise! Rugby Park goes fucking mental! Celtic miss a good chance through Wesley with a header and then Ante has a shot saved with the last shot of the game. A point.
I sit in my office after the game and send out for a bottle of single malt. Tom Glover gets one put in his car to after an incredible performance, and I look at the table.
We couldn’t…Could we?
