Back to the Footture: E18
Imagine having just been told you’ve won the lottery, and inherited a tropical island, and got the screener for future Nicolas Cage Masterpiece “The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent” 6 months early. And then the person tells you kicks you in the balls and steals your shoes.
Welcome to my world, as after qualifying from the Champions League group stage, we welcome Neil Lennon’s Dundee United to Rugby Pugby.
The small mercy is that we are at home, meaning that after 2 days of celebrations we are able to wander to the ground in loose robes and relax into the encounter. My thin squad has shown signs of cracking of late, but we are in reasonable shape going into this one and they have Claudio Bravo in goal, who’s conceded 26 in 11 games.
ATTACK!
After an onslaught in the first 15 minutes where Claudio Bravo resembles a man half his age — we slog away and eventually get given a penalty (!) which Enzo tucks away to give us a 1–0 half-time lead. Tremendously, we then give them a way back into the match when Coniah hauls down Niskanen and gives away a penalty, getting a red card in the process.
I haul off Kosta to go to 2 at the back, and Ortwin De Wolf comes on. He snarls at Will Grigg as he runs up, then dives the wrong way. 1–1. Not for long though as wonderful Ante Palaversa links up with Gerson to give us the lead again. Guus Til ices the game in the 67th minute with a terrific finish from a ball in by Palaversa and its 3 more points and some Tangerine Nightmares.
I remain in camp at Rugby Park for the next 3 days, and tell the boys to take it easy ahead of the visit of Ajax. I’m not expecting us to finish ahead of Barcelona, but it would be nice to maintain some kind of momentum ahead of the 2nd stage. Billy and Mikkel both come back in for us, and as the former leads us out onto the pitch there are loud fireworks going off across the top of the main stand. The Champions League anthem is drowned out by the chanting of the home support — what a people.
We have an early scare when Moukoko and Schjelderup both have shots saved by Coniah, but grow into the game leading to a chance for Enzo which is snapped in at Onana and tipped away. Michy Batshuayi looks lively and his mazy run is eventually cleared out as far as Gerson — who looks up and curls a long pass round the back of the defence to where Enzo is running in and he hits it first time….SAVED! Onana equal to it.
Coming up on half-time and it is Ajax pressing again. First Schjelderup and then Michy go close, then Michy sends an acrobatic effort just over the bar. Billy takes this personally and has a go from range that flies a couple of yards past the left hand upright, and then on the stroke of half-time he releases Mikkel on the left of the box who hits one skiffing accross the wet rubber…wide. 0–0 at half-time.
Gravenberch takes the ball straight from kick-off and his run ends in a cross which is bulletted over the bar by Moukoko. Enzo has another shot saved by Onana, but its Ajax who have the ball in the back of the net in the 65th minute when a Moukoko shots flies past Conia….DISALLOWED! Moukoko is adjudged to be offside and with 20 minutes remaining it’s still anyones’ game.
I look to my bench and bring on Bilal for Gerson and Goralski for the tiring Kenny Dougall. Goralski wins a free-kick that looks promising until Billy sends it somewhere near Ardrossan. A great scrambling save from Coniah prevents a Gravenberch lob finding the back of the net and Schjelderup has another effort over the top. The final whistle blows and I shake Luis Enrique’s hand — a thoroughly entertaining 0–0.
We finally have an away trip to take, with the short journey over to the South Lanarkshire mill to battle against Graham Alexander’s Motherwell (aye she is thanks). They are notionally top, having played a game more than us, and after my attacking hubris against them last time I stick with the Euro formula initially to try and pass them to death.
After an initial 15 minutes where they have 5 shots on goal and we don’t touch the ball, I push Billy and Guus forwards and get the players pressing more. It takes all of 3 minutes for this to have an effect as Guus towering header from a Billy cross gives us a thoroughly undeserved lead. Lewis Ferguson hits the bar with a rasping drive from the edge of the box as they press for an equaliser, but we finish the half the stronger with Bilal and Mikkel both going close.
The players get a mild bollocking at half-time given our incredibly passive nature at times, and a good save from Ortwin stops Erwin from equalising from kickoff. However from there we dig in, and Enzo should do better with a couple of clear opportunities. We look much more solid after some tactical readjustments with 25 minutes to go, and in the end we see the game out 1–0 -with Guus and Enzo unfortunate to come up against Scott Fox in Oliver Kahn-esque form.
I can think of worse results, and to be fair Motherwell are decent — so I’m not too annoyed. I forget completely when we wrap up a deal for a box office looking defensive midfielder for January. — our Champions League bounty paying massive dividends.
Next up, it’s the visit of Celtic to Rugby Park. They sit 4th in the embryonic table and a glance at their squad shows a lot of unhappy players. Kyogo will probably still score 4, but its not a happy camp, which is evident as the dismount from 3 coaches with hardly a word uttered between them. I shout obscenities at them but such is the nature of the headphone wearing disposition that they don’t notice. Time to make them fucking notice as they run into the Wall of Fuck…
Celtic have the first chance of the game as a drive from 20 yards by Turnbull stings the hands of Coniah. Kostas gets a chance to play one of his raking long balls a few minutes later and hits it sweetly towards Enzo, who leaps and heads the ball into the right hand channel. Bilal runs onto it and hits it first time….OH WHAT A GOAL, WHAT A GOAL BY BILAL!!! His 25 yard volley flies past Siegrist and crashes in off the upright.
Chances continue at both ends with Chris wood firing wide and a header from Guus Til clipping the post on its way wide. Celtic have a couple of promising build-ups but Williams Velasquez is in his best blocking form and repelling everything like a disgraced former MP. Ante gets the ball on the turn and breaks forwards, playing Enzo in down the right. He drives to the byline and clips in a cross, which Guus flies onto….GOAL! 2–0!! A good save from Coniah from Wood preserves the lead at half-time.
Fresh off a half-time teamtalk that I would best describe as raucous, we come out and start pinging the ball around in glorious fashion as Celtic look gassed. Guus is everywhere in the no.10 role and he ghosts behind the defence and crosses for Enzo to head beyond Siegrist on the hour, sending the home fans into a frenzy. I look across to the Celtic dugout and see Ange sitting there, head in his hands trying to remember the third verse words to ‘Down Under’. I feel for him, no one can ever remember. And even then its a more thankful task than sorting this sorry Celtic side out. 3–0 and we do two laps to applaud the fans.
The Celtic team coach disappears like Shergar in a hide-and-seek competition, and we party long into the night in celebration. The Sunday morning we meet up at the car park at 10:00, and jump on the coach to Prestwick to get out flight for the biggest game in the club’s history. It’s Barcelona away at the Camp Nou. Walking into the stadium, it’s the most daunting thing most of us have ever seen other than that wierd pre-season we had where we accidentally walked into a barn full of masked Welshmen and sheep in bras. It’s Mikkel who snaps us all out of it when he grabs a ball sitting on the touchline, jogs on dribbling it nd shapes to hoof it towards a goal, only to airkick it and slip, falling slap on his arse.
Its fucking hilarious, and hopefully not an omen of things to come.
Both sides are careful in possession to start, not giving much away. It’s a long ball from Mikkel across the immaculate turf to Bilal that gives a first sight at goal, but his effort drifts harmlessly wide. Gavi then sets up Milik to head straight at Coniah and Billy has a great chance unmarked from 12 yards but Ter Stegen acrobatically tips it round the post. Memphis gets a chance next to run at the defence and Billy takes one for the team in bringing him down near the byline. Aguero takes the free-kick and a leaping Domingos Duarte heads in the opener for the hosts. 1–0 Barca.
Charly comes on for Mikkel who was injured at the end of the first half and we try to up the tempo in search of an equaliser. A rash pass from Ante gives the ball away and Gavi gallops into the penalty area where he is upended. The referee blows his whistle and up steps Sergio Aguero from 12 yards…SAVED! CONIAH GUESSES THE RIGHT WAY!! Kosta clear is but Memphis brings it back and follows up his own initial shot, that Coniah somehow claws away again to keep us in the game.
Ante is gassed so I bring on his namesake Coric and bring Billy deeper. We stem the tide a little and a well worked move ends in a shot for Coric, but it curls just wide of the right hand post. I take Billy off for a well earned rest in a game he hasn’t really got into, and the game drifts to 90 minutes and the final whistle. A 1–0 defeat. Who cares…The fans certainly don’t as they sing long into the Catalan night.
And then the phase 2 draw comes…
I’m going to need another pair of trousers…
We at least get the international break to clean ourselves up and try to plot a way out of that group. Other than doing a Shawshank Redemption and somehow digging a tunnel into the Europa League draw I think we are fucked. But let’s enjoy it, we’re filthy fucking rich now anyway. I go to try to spend some cash but irritatingly the players I’m after want absurd wages that are 3 times as much as my maximum. I throw my phone into the fucking bin in anger, but at least get to watch Billy’s MOTM performance for Scotland in a 3–0 play-off win against Norway.
Our next league game is against the delightful Highland Furry Monsters of Inverness. They’re 10th in the table so I do a bit of rotating ahead of our first CL Phase 2 game and focus instead on bidding ludicrous amounts for SPFL players…
Gerson has a goal disallowed and is injured in the only action of the first 30 minutes. Charly comes on and suddenly its all action at both ends with a MacDonald shot sneaking wide and a Robbo effort over the bar. We gain a corner eventually and Ajeti leaps like a raving Salmon to head home for a 1–0 half-time lead. They equalise bang on the hour as Dylan Tait finishes powerfully past Coniah, and I call on the cavalry in the shape of Enzo. We go two up front and he immediately puts us ahead again with a volley from a Bilal cross, giving us the 3 points.
Well rested, we gather the following day for some performance analysis. This somehow ends up in Aapo being arrested at 2am the following morning having drunk 4 bottle of schnapps screaming “I’m going to fuck you up, Neymars!!!”. And he’s not wrong given the information our ‘scouting’ department has provided us.
It’s a chilly November night at Rugby Park as the wind rushes in the corners of the ground, bringing with it drizzle and sand from the car park renovation works. Not that it matters, the white heat of the stadium gives off a glow you can see in space, as Real Madrid run out to a chorus of boos and jeers. Simone Inzaghi shakes my hand as he walks past and I shout “Offside!” before realising it’s not Pippo. My mistake.
The fans have barely been able to inhale their first pie of the evening when a long ball from Kroos finds Carvajal galloping down the wing and he crosses for Alvaro Morata to head into the bottom corner. He should double the lead but shoots straight at Coniah before a Neymar shot flies wide. Wave after wave of white attacks are repelled by the ever valiant Kosta and Williams, but we barely touch the ball through the half and go in 1–0 down.
I tell the boys that I just want to see a bit more adventure from them, and Guus finally sets up a chance in the 47th minute, but Bilal sees his shot blocked and deflected away. Bilal then runs at the defence a few minutes later and Guus stretches to head it…but it drifts to the back post for Mikkel…and the ball is cleared as Mikkel tries to lay it back. SHOOT YOU LEGO MAKING FUCK!
Madrid, maybe sensing the game is swinging back towards us, step it up a gear and Coniah does well to save from Neymar and then deny Valverde. Ante Coric is next to have a go and his shot it well saved by Courtois. Ante Palaversa comes on for Coric but Madrid attack again and again — only to meet the brick wall that is Coniah yet again. Ante then creates a chance for Guus on the edge of the box, pressing high and finding Guus with a yard of space to snap in a shot…SAVED BY COURTOIS — a wonderful leaping diversion from the Belgian to save the lead…and give them 3 points as the referee’s whistle blows.
Simone comes over to shake my hand and says “Maybe you aren’t in Kansas anymore huh?” with a grin.
“Fuck off you Toto cunt” I snap back.
I’m dragging the Champions League down to our level, ready or fucking not.
