Back to the Footture: E19
November 22nd. The weather is cool with a chilled breeze blowing in from the west. I get up, lock the door and take the 15 minute walk to the ground. I look at my phone and see a notification saying that Graham Potter has been sacked by Arsenal…and my name is amongst the bookies favourites…
Bollocks to that.
I’ve got a trip to see Captain Excitement in Edinburgh. Easter Road is buzzing when we pitch up on Saturday. The boys disembark the coach and as they warm up are greeted warmly with pies and beverages being thrown in their direction. Rodney obliges them by picking up a bit of macaroni pie and pretending to hoover up a line of it. The locals quickly pipe down as they understand he is one of them. Billy and Ante come back in as we try to continue our dominant league campaign.
We attack early and a promising cross is cleared by Josh Doig. We regroup and fire forwards again, with some neat passing giving Kenny Dougall some space to fire beyond Harry Sharp in the Hibs goal and give us…offside. Fucking Offside. This somewhat ruins the rest of the half as I spend the next 42 minutes coming up with anagrams of “Complete and Utter Bastard” to shout at the fourth official, and other than Guus Til hitting every bit of the stand behind the goal its a dull game.
The second half starts with the now traditional ‘penalty shout turned down’ and Bilal hits a snapshot wide. I move to two at the back and shove Robbo up next to Enzo, who is in a running battle with Ryan Porteous and hasnt had a sniff all day. Bilal immediately swings in a cross which is saved, then Enzo finally has a shot that Sharp is equal to as well. With 5 minutes left, a cross from Mikkel finds Guus leaping highest…YESS ITS….FUCKING OFFSIDE AGAIN?! I run over to the fourth official and tell him I’m going to set fire to his socks. This is a complete fucking joke.
Hibs have one shot in the entire game and I shout at Jack Ross as I’m bundled into the coach by Ade Akinbiyi that he’s like a shite Terrence Malick film. I like my insults to be cutting, and suitably niche.
Annoyingly, Mikkel took a heavy bang right at the end of the game and will be out for 3 months with broken ribs, leaving my threadbare squad resembling an orphan from Oliver Twist. My ludicrous transfer market bids are also fruitless and as we take the long coach journey up to Aberdeen, I can’t pretend that I’m happy with my current lot. Well obviously I am, but I’m also raging, especially with the fucking average speed cameras that mean the trip from Dundee to Aberdeen passes like a Jack Ross lecture on fucking parking ettiquette. Charly comes in on the left for Mikkel. Enzo is getting homesick and I don’t fucking blame him given the conditions, and Aapo thinks he should be in the first XI.
Fuck This.
Billy has an early shot saved before Kosta limps off with a foot injury. They are 11th in the table and its easy to see why as they offer little save for Eamonn Brophy speculatively punting the ball at goal from 35 yards. Aapo nearly scores with a header and then right on half-time a lovely through ball from Billy is swept home by Enzo to give us the lead.
Aberdeen then equalise on the hour through Ramirez, sending me blue with fury. Enzo has a shot saved and I switch the defense about and push Billy forwards rather than remaining withdrawn. The engine room steps up big time, with Kenny putting the ball on a plate for Enzo to give us the lead on 76 minutes and Ante teeing up Guus to volley home 3 minutes later to secure the points — and Robbo adds the icing with a fine finish in injury-time.
Kosta’s injury isn’t too bad, but he’s ruled out of our next Champions League game. I spend the next two days in Holland meeting with agent as I’ve finally got a sniff of a couple of available players that might join us.
I fly back to Manchester and meet up with the squad to face Manchester United at Old Trafford. Ole is still at the wheel, despite the fact that they sit in 8th in the Premier league. They’ve signed the likes of Nicolas De La Cruz, Pablo Dybala and Trevoh Chalobah and frankly, if they weren’t managed by the footballing equivalent of David Brent after a shitload of Ketamine, I’d be worried. But this is Ayrshire on a fucking grim Tuesday night. Billy gees up the boys and we are ready and raring to go. If we get something here…
An early United attack breaks down and Bilal quickly ships the ball forwards in the channel to Enzo, who runs onto it and shoots…wide. David De Gea takes the free-kick quickly and Aaron Wan Bissaka gets a nosebleed as he breaks up the right and plays it into Wilfried Zaha, who throws himself theatrically to the ground as the referee waves play-on…AND THE LINESMAN FUCKING FLAGS FOR A PENALTY! Bruno steps up and scores. Fucking Bullshit.
The sleet lashes my face as a scream at the opposing touchline official who I presume has had a John Terry esque bung. Kenny runs past me as I continue my diatribe and looks up, hitting a ball across to the back portion of the penalty area, where Guus has made a good run. He leaps and launches a towering header at goal…UP AND OVER AN OUT OF POSITION DE GEA! ITS 1–1!!!
Kenny is all over the place and wins us a good free-kick that De La Cruz somehow hacks away at the back post. United come more into the game and a mazy run from Dybala produces a shot wide, before a free-kick comes in and the Argentine gets a loose ball and tries to knock it round Coniah…PENALTY AGAIN! 2–1 fucking Bruno fucking Fernandes. He nearly makes it 3 with a shot Coniah deals with well and Billy then forces De Gea into action with a free-kick that nearly dips in. Arlind then limps off, adding to my injury woes and Zaha hits the bar. 1st half done. Breathe.
United start the stronger but we still possess menace on the counter attack. Enzo gets away and pulls the ball back to Guus who is bundled over by Maguire…NO PENALTY! DO YOU HAVE EYES YOU FUCKING CRETIN?!?! Luke Shaw has a galloping run from deep and gets free on the left. Coniah comes out to challenge him and takes the ball off his toes…PENALTY…RED CARD…..At this point I don’t remember exactly what I said but I’m grabbed by 2 police officers and bundled down the tunnel. This is so many shades of bullshit that you could write an S&M novel about it. I refuse to watch the monitors inside — missing Bruno adding a 4th with a crisp volley — and instead set about the doors to the officials room, leaving a size 10 imprint near the handle. I need a fucking drink.
I sit silently on the coach back up, until I get a phonecall from an Amsterdam number as we cross the border. It’s confirmation that a huge target has agreed to sign for us. I thank them and hang up and resume my vow of silence. I’m still fucking raging and will remain so for the rest of the week.
Aapo gets a couple of bids for his services which I accept as I start to lineup the departure queue for January. We have 6 players rejoin training but none of them are fit for the visit of the Dundee Sinister Six. They are bottom of the table and have 38 year-old Scott Carson in goal. Time to fire up the Quattro…
As is our luck, Guus scores early and its chalked off for offside. Bilal misses a couple of chances but Enzo eventually gives us the lead after 35 minutes with a glorious header. I’m all set for a BAU teamtalk then Jason Cummings equalises with Dundee’s only shot of the half bang on the whistle.
We get the lead back on the hour when Enzo gets his second, and I realise that I left Aapo up top by mistake. Robbo comes on and I instantly regret my sub when Williams Velasquez — our last fully fit first choice centre back is carted off. Dundee push for a leveller but a late strike from Cummings is saved by Coniah and we survive. 3 points. Get it right up you SFA.
I congratulate Aapo on his performance and he thanks me, then tells me he’s just accepted an offer from Aberdeen. Fair play. I’m not that unhappy and its closer to Finland. Relatively speaking anyway.
Next up, it’s a long awaited matchup with Celtic in the League cup. I would rotate but that’s impossible with our squad. January cannot come quickly enough. I roll the dice with a very similar side and hope for the best as we arrive at Celtic Park. As usual, Ange greets me enthusiastically and congratulates me on our progress this year. It’s a lovely touch and I almost don’t want to beat the shit out his team. Almost.
Kyogo and Enzo exchange early chances hit at both keepers before Bilal goes closest with a rasping drive across the keeper and just wide of the far post. We are the better side as the game move towards the break, until Rodney shoves over James McCarthy after a foul and gets himself sent off — meaning we have to cling onto the scoreline up til half-time where I can try to assess what the fuck I am meant to do.
We battle hard in the second half,with defenders throwing themselves all over to block shots and the occasional break from us not quite leading to a goal. The game eventually drifts to its normal conclusion, as Celtic ping in a cross in the final minute and Kyogo meets it with an acrobatic overhead kick….JUST OVER. Extra time it is…
It passes without much incident bar a Kyogo shot against the post and Bilal nearly winning it for us in the 118th minute with a 40 yard lob that clips the top of the bar. So penalties it is. And we obviously know how that is going to fucking end
Fuck.
Ajeti gets another knock which rules him out for a further week just as I get him back to fitness. At this stage I’m calling on Catts to put the boots on in training and seriously contemplating trying to get him out of retirement, but the paperwork seems challenging and I can’t be bothered. Anyway, We’ve got Rangers to contend with next.
Sunday morning and Rugby Park is covered in freezing fog. I turn up at the ground early and assess my options. Kosta and Ante Coric are fit again which is a welcome sight, and so is Gerson Rodrigues. I tinker a little with the personnel and tell the guys to get out there and push through the tired legs for the 3 points. We need this.
An early Rangers attack from Aribo is dealt with excellently by Ante and he passes to Billy who in turn lays it to his right to a charging Kenny Dougall. He reaches the box and swings in a cross for Guus to meet like the fucking salmon he is to nod past Nipsy Areola. 1–0! Bilal and Billy both have efforts saved before a good spell of Rangers possession leads to Coniah having to be alert to deny Roofe just before the interval.
Just after half-time its Coniah who is the main man again with a terrific stop from a Waghorn header. Rangers are beginning to turn the screw when the man cometh. And Cometh he fucking does as Billy Gimour picks up the ball on halfway, dummies through two challenges and launches a 25-yard rocket into the far corner to double our lead! He runs over to celebrate with the staff and the place goes bonkers.
Ante nearly makes it 3 with a swerving shot that bends round the far post. The Mexican wave is briefly interrupted by a mazy run from Ryan Kent, who leaves Rodney on his arse and slots past Coniah…and the near post. Jack Clarke then has an effort over the top and the game drifts to full-time. A fantastic, life afirming 2–0 win. Pass me the Buckfast!
I can almost hear the seconds ticking away into January as I frantically look around the market for reinforcements, nearly spending an absurd amount of money before re-reviewing the deals I have lined up for January. Don’t know why I’m panicking. We’re stocked like a fucking prepper and the Penne botherers are here with Neil Harris. It’s Livi time.
The game flashes to life after 20 minutes with goals in quick succession for Kenny and Enzo giving us a two-nil lead. Omoenga replies with a vicious shot from distance but Billy then drives at the defence and batters in an even better effort meaning its 3–1 at the break. We have a late heart attack after a dull second half when Troy Parrott scores, but it finishes 3–2 and we take the 3 points yet again.
And then its a reunion with John Terry’s Hearts at Tynecastle. They’ve been my nemesis of late and we have a number of players back to fitness, so I tell the boys in no uncertain terms that I expect a major performance today. We walk out and the away fans are all burning bags of cash and wearing full replica kits. I love them.
The conditions are absolutely horrendous, with a mass downpour and howling wind ripping through the Edinburgh air. there’s only 12 minutes on the clock when Hearts get a pass through our lines and Daryl Horgan runs onto it and slots it beyond Coniah, the ball just crossing the line in the face of an impending puddle.
The rest of the half is a real struggle as move after move breaks down. Billy eventually has a shot saved and then there’s a cascade of chances in the last couple of minutes — Gerson shoots wide, Guus has a header saved and Enzo fires the ball over from 8 yards. 1–0 to Hearts at half-time.
I ring the changes on the hour with Robbo and Ante Coric coming on to try and give us some attacking imputus. Robbo has a header saved by Adam Davies and with 20 minutes left it looks like we are going to be bested again…but yet again Kenny comes up with a fantastic cross for Guus to bury another header and level things up.
Bilal has been a bit subdued until I moved him over to the right, at which point he goes into overdrive. He toys with Stephen Kingsley three times before whipping in a wicked ball at hip height, which Halkett shapes to clear…BUT ENZO DIVES IN AND BULLETS A HEADER HOME!!! 2–1!!! I run along the touchline in ecstasy.
I’m still celebrating when a be-mudded Daryl Horgan gets away down the right and lays the ball back to Jack Muldoon. He looks up and curls a speculative shot towards the far corner…and Coniah can’t reach it…2–2…for fucks sake. We push for a winner but a move breaks down and Joe Ralls gets the ball in our half, pegs his ears back and runs to the byline. He slides in a low cross and Muldoon slides in, meeting the ball to send it into the bottom corner and finishing crumpled in the advertising hoardings.
3–2 Hearts.
I cancel my free transfer deal for Jaka Bijol as I take another look at him and think I can do better. I frantically dig around my stocking for any hint of a centre half who might be interested and good and fire in a couple more bids. I’m realising as time goes on that I have next to no common sense when it comes to squad building, I cannot work out what I need or want and my room is awash with notes of targets that I’ve thrown away or burnt at their contract demands.
Anyway, we have Christmas lunch then head up to Inverness. It’s time to tame the monster.
We look leggy and its no surprise when they open the scoring after 20 minutes. But they don’t have Billy Gilmour — who takes the game by the scruff and a driving run produces an equaliser shortly after. We put the pressure on and leading up to half-time a through-ball from Ante is fumbled by the keeper, and Enzo ops up the rebound before tapping the ball into an empty net. 2–1.
Gerson is supremely disappointing again and he gets hooked to move Bilal over to his preferred wing. We push for a killer goal and Coniah has to save well from ICT on a couple of occasions. With 5 minutes left, we win a free kick on the left and Ante takes it quickly, threading it between the lines. Enzo ghosts across the backline and manages to flick the ball with the outside of his boot — up and over McLaughlin and rolling into the net. Another 3 points.
And finally. It is time. The glorious week of transfer market soze-ing.
I start by securing a move for a new centre back, using my previously fruitful Dutch connections to get it over the line as quickly as possible. A new striker then follows with serious pedigree, if a slightly disappointing careerpath so far. On the 31st, a whole raft or targets cross the 6-month expiry threshold and I make a series of contract offers, most of which seem to be palatable at the first glance. And then…FINALLY!
My blockbusting move for Mohammed Kudus from Ajax is scuppered when his work permit is denied, and Aberdeen fail to cough up for Aapo. However, given that Bright and Tino were free and the fees for Simone, Dmitri and Kik total around £5m I feel like we’ve done sensational business.
I’m annoyed about the Kudus deal as I was going to play him on the left. I decide I’ll give the rocket powered Oberlin that job, and move Bilal back to his preferred position. Kik comes into defence and it’s a slightly different makeup for our first fixture of 2024. Motherwell at home.
We start brilliantly as Billy crosses for Guus to rise highest and head home in the 3rd minute. Lee Erwin nearly equalises but hits the post 5 minutes later in a massive let-off for us and I yell at the boys to focus. Pierie comes forwards and shoots narrowly off-target and Enzo gets a yard of space near the penalty spot but leans back and gets it all wrong. It’s their turn next as Kastanos forces a save from Coniah before the last action is Enzo shooting from 20 yards and Joe Hart does well to parry away. 1–0 at half-time.
The second half is much quieter and I look to the bench to bring on Gerson for the tiring Bilal and Simone for Kenny. They put a free-kick just over the bar and frustratingly we are sruggling to see this out. Oberlin fashions a chance for Velasquez but he heads over and the game ends up drifting to conclusion. 1–0. 3 points. Phew.
Panada and Pierie impress on debut and their duet of “Don’t go Breaking my Heart” in the changing rooms afterwards is the stuff of lore.
Dmitri Oberlin’s “Gin and Juice” less so. But hell…he can play“Jus’ Shadappa ya’ Face” 14 times on the panflute if it means we win the title.
It’s another busy week at HQ as the revolving doors start to whirr. Charly leaves for £3.9m as we’ve managed to secure a new left winger who is actually a left winger who has just come to the end of a contract with Viking in Norway. Welcome Osame Sahraoui!
He comes straight into the side for our next game, yet another trip to the Tortellini-a-drome against Livingston. They’re in 9th and are probably defying the odds a tad given their squad. We are flying. Osame comes straight in for Dmitri and Tino comes onto the bench for the first time. We have an outrageous side.
Its a quiet start, but Billy does as Billy does and celebrates signing a contract extension with yet another goal, finishing smartly from a good pass by Ante. Livi equalise not long after through a header from Holland-Wilkinson, but another lovely move involving Ante and Billy sees a cross come into the bos and Osame dives onto it to head past Kelly in the Livi goal for a 2–1 half-time lead.
Frustratingly, the pasta pricks come out after half-time and equalise through Troy Budgerigar, not long after we have yet another penalty shout turned down. However Billy Gilmour is the greatest thing to ever exist and after I tell him to push on, he does just that and knocks in our third and his second to give us the lead again. I gamble and go to the bench, bringing on Tino and Dmitri and they nearly link up straight away, a good save from Kelly denying the Swiss. Livi push for an equaliser and a chance falls for Holland-Wilkinson but he lashes it wide. We hit them on the break and Dmitri has an effort saved before with the last kick of the game Billy beats Kelly….but it hits the post and goes out of play. 3–2.
All I’ll say is thank fuck for Billy Gilmour.
