Back to the Footture: E16
*Fanfare*
Duuuuuhhhhh — duuh duhh duhhh, duddludududududuhduhduhduhduhduhduh — DUHHHHH DUHHHH DUDUDUDUHHHHH
In a galaxy somewhere in the west, a brave band of Warriors based around a plastic pitch have emerged, looking to save Scottish and indeed world Football from the tyrrany of nonsensical transfer fees and dull press conferences. Armed with a manager with a penchant for winger violence, and a bunch of misfit toys that the world cast off, they have risen from the ashes of the Cinch Championship to become Premiership title holders in just two seasons.
They now face a key transfer window ahead of defending the league and league cup, along with entering Europe and trying to reclaim the Scottish Cup from the clutches of Uber-Bastard John Terry. Whilst the road is lined with foes in the shape of Steven Gerrard, ‘Funtime’ Jack Ross and probably Hamilton, our Heroes will not take a backwards step.
Its time for Back to the Footture!
*end pre-credits*
Now that I’ve finished my opening pitch to Amazon Prime for the dramatisation of this ridiculous series, it’s time for me to do what I’m best at and Keyser Soze some money out of folk.
We’ve been blessed to finally say goodbye to big racist Malky — who has still inexplicably got a job. We’ll be rejoined in the top flight by the Loch Ness Bastards, who snuck past the Paisley Pandas to win the Championship title. Hamilton continue their slide down the leagues with Arbroath. Further down we see promotions for Falkirk and Annan, as Alloa shift off their mortal coil and Paul Ince swims to the relativesafety of Muirhouse to escape the sinking ship Dunfermline. Down at the bottom its Forfar and Stirling Albion up, with Peterhead getting a minimum 12 months behind the pyramid bars.
Across Europe, Man City win the Premier League as Milwall, Burnley and Bournemouth all perish — Spurs finish in a lovely 12th. PSG win in France despite stiff competition from Rennes and Nantes. Bayern win the Bundesliga as there is a surprising relegation in the shape of Wolfsburg. Luciano Spaletti brings glory to Naples as they win Serie A for the first time in 33 years. Real Madrid win La Liga ahead of Atleti and Barca fired by Neymar, Luka Jovic and Oihan Sancet. I then understand why Nuno kept his job as I discover they beat PSV in the UEFA Cup Final and Bayern beat Liverpool in the Champions League.
But this all pales in comparison to us. And I have some fucking work to do to get us up to scratch for next season as well.
I get the board to upgrade the facilities as our squad is of decent age for development. I need some more depth on the wings and in the engine room, and while Tom Glover was excellent for us I could definitely do with a keeper upgrade and some depth as Liam Kelly is going back to Motherwell.
All of my planning is then ruined when the board upgrade the training ground and also add 1750 seats for an eyewatering £3.5 million. This leaves me with £3m in my budget and a frantic scoping of my squad for saleable assets. Melker is sacrificed for £1m to Brann, and we embrace and cry at the airport as he board his flight. He will never be forgotten. I list Lewis for £2.5m and get a couple of nibbles, and while I’m comparing Hungarian defensive midfielders I get a call from Catts. The news signings are here!
Ortwin will be our new number 1 (for at least 5 minutes) and Ante adds a touch of glamour. McCrorie is purely depth as he was free and I’m already thinking of selling him. Gerson is a gem — £1.3 million pounds of pure Luxembourg goodness.
There is no stopping though as we look to capitalise on our European campaign as an attraction. Wolfman has his number 1 shirt ripped away about 4 hours later as Conniah Boyce-Clarke joins for £3.5m. I recoup most of this outlay straight away as Lewis Ferguson ends his somewhat underwhelming spell with us buy moving to Motherwell for £2.5 million and then complete the job by selling Daniel Sinani to Wrexham for £1.3m.
AND THEN!!!
I CANNOT BREATHE!
Billy Gimour inexplicably got released by Chelsea and I manage to snap him up on £13.5k p/w deal (and a £3m signing on fee) which is incredible value for the greatest player in the world. Just check out him and Coniah!
Even better, Gilmour has a min-fee clause for £27m — which would allow me to re-finance the fucking moon if someone decided to pay for it.
Our next step is to go back to our roots of scraping for free agents around Europe. I spot a couple of possible candidates early but they ask for 80k per week wages, which no one who has ever been within 10 miles of Kilmarnock has ever earned ever. I scour the market for others but as yet there isn’t much — and I make a series of speculative trial offers and contract bids that essentially say “pwetty pwease?” Eventually I get a bite and we add a Polish defensive midfielder from Kazakhstan via a Dutch Airport, where he meets up with a Dutch/Turkish winger hot off a season with Heracles. It’s Jacek Goralski and Bilal Basacikoglu.
This puts our squad at near completion, and I abort a move for another defensive midfielder for the time being until I can work out what our personnel might look like and what budget I actually have. We play a friendly against Hertha, and this gives me a few clues — including who my fucking captain is!
Our first game of the season is coming up and I’m eager to try and add one more player, any player, as I have a fucking addiction. We find the perfect man in Venezuelan/English centre back Williams Velazquez from Milwall — who joins us for £2m just in time to replace Kosta who misses the first game through injury. It seems like yesterday that we arrived at Tannadice, fresh faced and promoted ready to play our first game of last campaign.
But now, we have a reputation to uphold.
They’ve somehow persuaded 40 year-old Claudio Bravo to sign for them off the back of a season for Betis B where he conceded 61 in 21 games. He’s picking the ball out of the net in the 4th minute as Mikkel pings one in from 20 yards, and we get a second just before half-time from an Enzo header.
After the break, Billy seems to waltz through the defence at will and one of these runs is halted by a foul which Mikkel steps up to convert from the penalty spot. Billy then gets his second assist of the game with a perfect pass for Enzo to slot home and we’ve set down a marker. 4–0. Perfect start.
And we follow this up with an equally good 10-man performance at home to St Johnstone thanks to goals from our Croats. Lazy Journalists all print “Kilmarnock Up the Ante” headlines on the Sunday and I spend days tracking them down and burning every copy. Sheer Laziness.
And we make it 3 from 3 as we travel up to the Loch Ness and dive head first in, and coming out with goals from Mikkel and Captain Billy- All Aboard and bring the fucking Whisky!
We say goodbye to a fan favourite in the days after our Highland adventure, as Scotty Fraser packs up his parka and bearskin hat as he jets off to Colorado Rapids in the MLS. I’ll be sad to see him go, but at the same time I can’t begrudge the boy regular football. A wonderful servant with 18 goals and 8 assists in 59 games. At the same time, I wait for a coupleof hours, sipping espresso and looking at another Dutch inbound flight. Its a huge arrival for us. Welcome, Guus Til!
I had to shell out a little for the signing-on fee, but it’s incredible to have an 8-time Dutch international join us — let along trying to work out how the hell he will fit into our side. We try it straight away, having a little reshuffle to look a little more positive in our game against the Bread-Roll-Brigade of Motherwell.
Fair to say it starts well when he opens the scoring after 11 minutes. However despite a second goal from Mikkel they peg us back on each occasion and it’s a disappointing 2–2 draw. Perhaps a little ambitious when I realise they were 3rd in the table.
With this in mind, I spend the week tinkering and playing about with potential shapes. Our next game is a trip to Celtic Park, a venue at which we are still to win. We’ve been excellent in the usual shape so far, and I decide this is the way I have to go. We get another bulletin midway through the week, it’s our Champions League draw…
Am I wrong to say we can get out of this group? Yes. Let’s move on…
The coach pulls up to Celtic Park on the Saturday and there is a palpable air of excitement. They’ve only added 3 youngsters to their squad over the summer and Ange greets me with an air of nervousness. I take the warm-up and hit little layoffs for the midfield and attack to ping in a range of shots at Coniah and Ortwin. Most of them end up somewhere between Row Q and Bellshill. Lets hope this isn’t a fucking omen for what is to come.
We start at a good tempo and dictate the opening exchanges, but McGregor gives us a warning when his header clips the bar. However in keeping with our hot start, Billy wins the ball in midfield, slips in Mikkel and he finishes fiercely past Siegrist in the Celtic goal. 1–0 and the away fans parcelled into the top corner go bananas.
Ralston is a menace down the right and has a couple of good crosses well cleared. As the game gets close to half-time we win a free-kick on the right hand touchline. Mikkel steps upand hangs a ball to the back post when Kosta is leaping like a piece of jetpacked Halloumi….AND INTO THE NET! 2–0! And it could be 3 after a run from Velasquez sees the ball fall to Gerson, but his volley narrowly misses the target.
As usual we have a penatly shout turned down, before Ajeti and Musonda have further chances before the hour that both miss the target. Out of nowhere on 65 minutes, Kyogo takes a shot which deflects off Ajeti and up and over Boyce…fucking 2–1. Guus and Bilal come on to give us some dutch grit and pace, and with 5 minutes left Conniah makes another good save. Wave after wave of Celtic crosses bombard our box but with our hybrid Albanian/Greek/Venezuelan United-Nations-Of-Putting-The-Ball-Into-Row-Q, we repel them all and the final whistle blows, giving us another 3 brilliant points.
Up the Killie!!
Shapiing up for our next game against Captain Charisma’s Green and White Cirque Du Fantastique, I see that they’ve made a couple of big signings in Jonny Williams and Connor Roberts. I look at a deal for Gareth Bale but realise I’d have to buy him a season pass at Trump Turnberry and phone his agent to tell him to fuck off to Dundee.
Instead, I continue on my quest to sign anyone that Chelsea have released…which is a surprisinly extensive and unsurprisingly talent laden list. I get two youngsters in on trial, realise they are ridiculously good and submit contract offers. I also make some moves to clear some unwated wages out. Big Kev gets a move to Accrington to see out his career — a heartbreaking move but he’s earning £4,000 a week with plastic knees. Dujon then clears off to Hearts for 500k before we bring in some new blood. Ex Bayern youth Bright Arrey-Mbi.
OR WE WOULD IF HE DIDN’T HAVE A BROKEN LEG!
*I sheepishly resubmit terms*
And then the window shuts. All 3 of my proposed free-agent additions don’t accept in time so we now have a paper thin squad. I’ve fucking Keyser- Soze’d myself.
Luckily the international break doesnt produce any further casualties, and we finally get acceptance from one of our proposed signings. Say hello — in 4 months — to Tino Anjorin!
I’ll attempt to turn him into a striker but he’s quality. Im furious when a further attempted move which was also denied due to medical reasons is hijacked by Swansea, who swoop in to sign Ethan Ampadu from under our nose. Fucking Welsh fucks.
Anyway, Hibs.
In front of a new record 18922 crowd, despite Hibs having the first chance we are all over them like gear-withdrawal-shakes and after what seems like a chance-a-minute Billy breaks the deadlock after Charly’s shot is parried into his path. We really should stretch our advantage in the second half, and eventually we seal the game in the 90th minute as Gerson comes off the bench to get his first goal for the club.
We leave the ground and head straight to the Airport to get our flight to our first Champions League game. Next stop — Amsterdam.
We sit in a central bar on the Sunday and watch as Rangers lose the Old Firm derby 2–0 to Celtic, meaning we stay top of the table after 6 games. After a wander round the centre, making sure to stay clear of green lights and red plants (I think thats the right way round). After a couple of training sessions at the sensational Amsterdam Arena, we head to the ground on the Tuesday evening, surrounded by red flares and drums as we get close to the ground.
Luis Enrique extends his hand in greeting and we embrace. He smells so much better than Stephen Glass. Ajax have just signed Youssuf Moukoko and Nico Williams, to add to Haller, Gravenberch, Klaasen, Timber, Onana. Its a little bit daunting. We go back to our triple engine room which served us well at the end of last season. Charly has been poor so far, so I stick Mikkel on the left and Guus goes to AMC. I rev up the boys in the changing rooms and they run out onto the pitch, looking round the stands in amazment. What a Night!.
Klaassen has a dig wide and then Rony Lopes gets a shot in past Coniah, but is called back for offside, picking up a booking for booting the ball into the stands in frustration. Haller then goes close and we’ve barely touched the ball in the opening 20 minutes. Billy pushes on to press as we are far too deep. Moukoko then hits then bar and just as the rebound looks like it’s going to be turned in, a flying Kosta deflects it away.
Guus then gets a knock and I decide to bring on Jacek and go triple engine room with Billy roaming from central midfield. We seem to shut things down from this point and even have a shot on goal, but Mikkel’s effort is tame and dribbles through to the keeper. 0–0 at half-time.
Billy sets up Enzo early in the second half but his shot misses the target and the referee runs over to a prone Gerson, who is lying back on the turf. He comes off for Bilal to give us some pace. Moukoko goes close again before a mazy run from Ante sees a pull-back perfectly in stride for Enzo…OFF THE BAR! Agonisingly close for our French wonder. Suddenly we are in the ascendency and Mikkel and Enzo both have shots well saved. with 30 minutes left it is anyones’ game.
Mikkel goes close again and then Alvarez has a header tipped over from Coniah. We are beginning to look tired again and Ajax dominate the ball until a free-kick is put in to Enzo…OFF THE BAR AGAIN! ARGHHHMNFMFNFL! I accidently punch Catts in frustration and the medical team do their work totop the bleeding as he counters with an uppercut to my nose before he knows what he’s doing. As we wander up and down the touchline chuckling looking like two Terry-Butcher impersonators, Kenny Dougall gets the ball and starts to run into the Ajax half. He looks up and thinks about passing to Enzo on the edge, before lofting a pitching wedge up and over the to the back post…WHERE ANTE IS STEAMING IN TO HEAD HOME!!!!! WE LEAD IN AMSTERDAM!
In the final minute they win a free kick as Ante commits a cynical foul. Lopes plays it in and its headed away by Ajeti, but only as far as Michy Batshuayi. He lofts is back in towards Alvarez at the back post….BUT THERE IS VELASQUEZ! Our Venezuelan blocks the header and the ball bounces away as the final whistle blows!!!!!
I conduct my post match press conference looking like I’ve just survived a zombie apocalypse, and I’m interrupted as Catts, Robbo and Enzo come out and pour Amstel all over me midway through.
I think its safe to say we are going to win the Champions League.
