Back to the Footture: E24
I have no idea what I set out to achieve with this series of fortunate events thus far. All I know is that I’ve been wildly successful considering numerous test runs of failure and we’ve ended up with an inexplicably terrific side.
That said, I am fucking annoyed that our Champions League campaign already appears to be derailed.
We do have home games against both of the big boys to come, but they can spunk £60m on some Norwegian regen for a giggle if they want — the financial gap is absurd.
Still fizzing from the loss against the Bavarian machine, we head into our next Premiership match with a chip on our shoulder and some mild burns from an egg-related microwave mishap. I should never have let Kirk Broadfoot come and visit us.
Well, it would appear that ‘Well were fairly un-Well for this game, as we find a rich Well of goals that means I come to the end of the game feeling very ‘Well indeed. Well…enough of this.
We destroy them 5–1 with a hat-trick from the rapidly improving Georgios and a triple-assist performance from Conor Gallagher as our more attacking formation pays off big-style — so I reward the boys with a trip out to an Italian restaurant and they each get to have one street fight each between the hours of 2am and 3am. Its the Killie way.
Just before an international break, we have the joys of the cup as the Lol-erific Falkirk turn up to Rugby Park in between their now famous Q&A’s. They now sit 3rd in the Championship and appear to be on the up after several years in the wilderness of League 1, and they even have ex-Killie luminaries Pater Grant (yay!), Joe Pigott (Meh) and Brandon Haunstrup (boooooooo!) in their ranks. Paul Sheerin is their boss and I have to remind him of the no-sheep-in-the-ground rules we emphasise to all Aberdonians and Welsh on their arrival at the ground.
It’s a good chance to rotate given we are beginning to look a little thin on the ground and a solid performance gives us a 3–1 win, with the only blot on the copybook being an injury to the excellent Emile, who tears his groin and will miss 2 months just as he’s beginning to find some form.
My only real concern so far this year has been the slight tendancy for us to leak goals like a fucking sieve against the bigger teams. With a large wallet to play with, I send out the scouts and a few WhatsApp messages to contacts. I get a spurious message back from over the water in Holland saying that there’s a defender who they think might be interested.
With planning for the visit of Rangers on the horizon, I send in a bid and I’m delighted to get contract talks done and dusted 24 hours before the game. We have a new defender arriving in January and he is tremendush (An Ode to Steve McLaren).
Rangers sit a point behind us in the table after 9 games having made a hot start with the additions of Joe Gomez (who is ridiculously good), Oliver Skipp, Adam Idah and Neco Williams. They are beginning to look like a who’s who of Premier League utility players and I don’t like it one bit, especially when allied with the presence of Callum Wilson. I go back to full strength based on my available players, with Conor getting a start alongside Simone in the engine room. Ante and Kenny are both a bit disgruntled but there’s a reason that I am the manager and they fucking aren’t.
We start on the front foot and great interplay between Conor and Osame sees Guus get a chance in the first minute, but he heads over. This is followed up by a shot from Osame which is saved well and Billy having a shot cleared off the line as we set our stall out to dominate. With 25 minutes on the clock Rangers have barely touched the ball and spent most of the time kicking our midfield — without a single booking being given. I’m berating the 4th official when Conor slides through a couple of challenges to the edge of the box and rockets in a shot….SIDE NETTING!
Just after the half-hour, our first bad challenge leads to a yellow for Guus, at which point I turn to Catts and tell him to get me 8 insults in different languages that I can hurl at the officials. He’s collating them when Billy sees an opportunity to play in Guus and releases him. He shoots and Alphonse Nipples can only palm the ball out to his left, where Osame is sliding in….GOAL!!! 1–0 as Rugby Park Erupts! I run down the touchline and jump into the stands to celebrate as Steven Gerrard watches on like he’s just swallowed a batch of jizz favoured wasp stings. We keep the lead into the break and I congratulate the players on a terrific first half.
Rangers come out with a bit more vigour and Ryan Kent steers a volley over the bar early in the half. I yell at the team to tighten up and Georgios decides to press and harry Joe Gomez, who turns round and pushes him in the chest…but only gets a yellow?! My insults ramp up at this point as I scream for an SFA inquiry, which is only heightened when minutes later Ballo-Toure skims a shot off the wet rubber past Coniah to level the scores.
Ante and Paul Nebel come on for the ineffective Sourlis and the knackered Conor, who didn’t appear to come out for the second half. Straight away Ante gets booked for tugging the shirt of Skipp and the free-kick is headed home by Conor Goldson as our marking resembles a fucking Picasso painting. And to make matters worse, Simone then gets his marching orders for a second booking…at this point we’ve commited 5 fouls and had 5 bookings, they’ve had 8 fouls punished by 2 bookings. SF-fucking-A?!?!?!
I bring on Villadsen for Justin and go to two at the back with Nebel and Guus playing off Georgios. We get a lifeline when Joe Gomez has to limp off leaving them with 10 as well, so long ball after long ball come forward and Guus eventually wins a flick on with 5 minutes left which Georgios can only volley over. The same combination happens on 88 minutes and this time Georgios takes a touch before firing in a shot…wide….
The nipple-man takes an age over the goal-kick, which is hit long into our half where Billy can collect it. He launches a towering header back 30 yards, reaching Guus midway in the Rangers half as the crowd all get to their feet. He looks up and shapes to hit a shot….but its a scuffed one….NO IT’S NOT, IT’S A PASS INTO GEORGIOS!!! HE TAKES A TOUCH AND SHOOTS!!!!!
OSHGOANRV#PMGIOANBFUINFDIDMNoufbafnjsdvn!!!!!!!
It’s a get out of jail free but fuck me was that a way to finish a game. I congratulate the players on getting a point against the 12 men of Rangers and immediately file a complaint against the referee — who is rather curiously named Andy Gorham (?!). The SFA can’t bring themselves to disagree as they are blessed with the power of sight and I’m told future performances will be watched with interest.
In Karmic wonder, Rangers have a game against Livingston on the Monday and lose 1–0, so I feel that justice is done. It gives us a big boost ahead of the visit of a Bayern side hot off a 3–1 win against Koln.
As Wednesday night comes round again, Kilmarnock turns gloriously Blue and White once again in honour of their team. I drop Billy back but decide to leave Guus up in support of Georgios as we have to win this game. It’s imperative. I also bring Paul Nebel onto the right to face-off against his teutonic counterparts. The Champions League Anthem rings out around Rugby Park as we enter and the fireworks go off over the top of the stands. A couple of the Bayern players must think it’s Oktoberfest celebrations, I like to think of it as a New Orleans funeral for them. Hopefully.
We’re all over them in the first 5 minutes as we get a couple of corners and then a free-kick opportunity from Billy….which he curls just over the bar. Sule gets booked for his part in this which gives Georgios half a yard of room, which he takes advantage of to ping in a strike which Neuer can only parry out to Nebel….SAVED AGAIN! Jesus fucking christ the goalies in this game…
They’ve barely had a kick by the 20th minute and we seem to be able to pick them apart at will as their midfield presses high but allows us to pass through. Osame gets the next chance and his drive from distance swerves all over the place but Neuer is equal to it once again. They have their first chance when Tillman forces a good save out of Coniah, but we get a chance to counter and Simone lofts a ball forward to Georgios. He peels to the right hand side of the box and clips in a cross….WHICH IS MET BY GUUS WITH A TOWERING HEADER TO PUT US 1–0….WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!?!
Offside…
I presume the SFA have written to UEFA to get them onboard with their “Let’s ruin my life” campaign. Upamecano is next in the book two minutes later and the free-kick presents Guus with another header, which Neuer tips round the post. After Bayern attack but it’s broken up we attack at pace again with Billy and Ante linking up to free Osame. He plays a 1–2 with Georgios giving him room to cross and Guus leaps highest to get another effort on goal….AND PAST NEUER!! FLAG THAT ONE YOU FUCKS!!!
The stands are bouncing and the players are absolutely flying around the park now, although a little overenthusiasm from Kerr gives Werner a chance to shoot which Coniah saves well. The corner comes in but it’s the unusual figure of Osame heading it away, capping off a great half of football.
The second half starts more sedately until Paul gets a pass from Billy and he curls his shot agonisingly wide of the far post. Coming up to the hour they bring on dangerman Sieb, who gets a chance which Williams blocks well. The ball is played out to Osame, who gives it to Nebel on the halfway line. He gets past Sieb, then Kimmich midway in the Bayern half. He looks outside then cuts in past Upamecano…AND SHOOTS LEFT FOOTED…OH MY WORD ITS SENSATIONAL!!!!!! ITS 2–0 AND NEBEL IS DOING LAPS OF RUGBY PARK!!!
It’s an extraordinary solo goal that gives us a two goal cushion, and it could be 3 when Guus shoots wide. Thomas Muller forces Coniah into a good save with 15 minutes to go and I go to the bench to replace the tiring legs of Guus and Simone with Sourlis and Kenny. A few minutes later Osame comes off to a standing ovation from the home support and Sliti crosses for Georgios to head home in the dying embers of the…OFFSIDE AGAIN?!!?! Nope…nope I’m not getting angry.
This is one to savour.
And that, is how you successfully perform resuscitation on a flagging European campaign.
I’m not going to deny that the UEFA Cup and all of its trinketry and former Soviet Bloc countries isn’t insanely appealling given I could very well win the bloody thing, but no — we will continue in this vaguely traumatising European voyage — at least until we get dicked by Spurs. But we now have a chance at least. And we made £813,000 in ticket sales.
That’s almost Conor Sammon money.
We have to pick ourselves up from this astonishing news (after a quick fruitless search in the market for a spuriously stupid signing) to travel up to Pittodrie, where things are bleaker than bleak. Simple Wayne has continued to pick himself in goal despite having Daniel Bachmann in his squad, and has conceded 32 in 11 games (with an astonishing 7.18 rating). They have added Mikkel, George Byres (Ibrox red card wanker) and Cyrus Christie to their squad, but they’ve taken 3 points from 11 games and are rock bottom. We shuffle the pack a little as Guus is criminally unfit and Simone is suspended.
Time to take the sheep out to the randy Welshman.
I pretend to be astonished when Mikkel limps off after 6 minutes before Conor then opens the scoring with a low strike. We then follow this up with a triple strike on the half-hour mark with goals from Osame, Georgios and Paul giving us a 4–0 half-time lead as Wayne Hennessey is pelted with cartons of Ribena as he runs off at half-time.
It gets even funnier 5 minutes after the break as he’s sent off for a professional foul and Kik Pierie steps up to blast home the penalty and make it 5. Georgios gets the 6th and they end up with 9 men as Shaun Byrne limps off injured with 15 minutes to go. With defenders falling over through exertion our Greek Adonis up top gets his hat-trick in the final minute as Sourlis draws the keeper and squares it unselfishly for his fellow countryman. They don’t even have a shot.
Lambs to the Slaughter.
Mint. Fucking. Sauce.
We hop on a flight the next day from Glasgow over to the fair land of chocolate and…gold reserves? I don’t know. All I know is that beating Genk on their turf would give us every chance of qualification going into the final game of the group stages. I also get an incredibly funny message that Hibs have sacked Craig Conway — who would have thought that wouldn’t work out?!
Its a chilly night in Genk as we warm-up. Luckily we have Simone back and Guus is closer to alive than dead so we move back to our more standard lineup. I decide to go for Vasilios over Paul after his impressive display against the Dons, and drop Billy back into his deep roaming submarine position in our Marianas formation.
As is tradition we have a shot on the first minute over the bar, with the honours on this occasion falling to Simone. However a very shitty fly is dropped in our ointment when Bryan Heynen wins a free-kick that Luca Oyen plants onto the head of Nemeth to nod past Coniah and give them a 1–0 lead in the 4th minute. Fuck.
Oyen in particular is causing us grief and Simone goes into the book after scything him down. Osame eventually gets a shot in which flies narrowly wide a few minutes later before Georgios has a shot tipped wide by the keeper, then manages to nod the resulting corner over the bar from 3 yards out as I howl into the Belgian blackness above me.
I push Billy forward and his delivery is met by Georgios, who plants another effort wide of the fucking uprights — and a further shot from Osame stings the hands of the keeper. Pressing for an equaliser in the run up to half-time a move breaks down and Tresor gets loose in our half, driving at goal before unleashing a shot….SAVED BY CONIAH! Thank fuck for that and it’s half-time.
Paul comes on for Vasilios at half-time for his finishing ability and I move Ante alongside Billy with Simone holding down the engine room. It takes us 20 minutes to fashion a chance, and Paul crosses for Guus to leap highest….OFF THE BAR! SHIT! Then a good move involving Simone gives him another chance to fire at goal…SAVED BY THE KEEPER!! I accidently hit Ade as I swing around in disgust, which is akin to slapping a brick wall made of fucking bricks. As I recoil in agony I see Ante put some pressure on in midfield and nudge the ball loose to Georgios 30 yards out. He takes a touch forwards and hits a rocket of an effort…THAT FLIES PAST THE KEEPER INTO THE TOP CORNER!!! 1–1 as he rushes to pick up the ball and signals to the away fans to lift the noise!!
Straight from kick-off Ugbo gets a chance to shoot from the edge of the D and Coniah can only watch as the ball beats him, but strikes the left hand post and bounces away to safety. Guus comes off for Villadsen and Paul goes up to support Georgios as we look for a winner. Ante has a shot just wide before Oyen hits us on the break and crosses for Nemeth to shoot — only for a slidng Justin to dive in and slide the ball away to safety. It’s end to end stuff now as Villadsen’s crossfield ball finds Osame, who shoots straight at the keeper. Villadsen gets the ball back in his own half and drives forwards, beating 2 men and crossing for Billy…..WIDE…the goal-kick takes longer than a TED talk but its won by Simone and headed wide to Villadsen again. He hits a deep cross into the box where Paul misses it….AND IT DROPS TO GEORGIOS!!!!!
TIPPED. WIDE. AND THE WHISTLE GOES!!!
Catts has to hold me back as I run at the officials for not allowing the corner to be taken. I frantically get Adam El-Abd to check the scores…and fuck me is it tight.
There are so many permutations I go full Pepe Silvia on the flight home. I get a sniff in the week that Lazio are preparing a bid for Billy so I quickly get a contract in front of him with a £42m release clause just in case. Granted I probably shouldn’t have given it to him in the changing rooms before our game against the Methodone Wanderers of Paisley. Ante isn’t fit so Conor comes in.
Its a fucking shocking first half as we look like we haven’t slept in 72 hours and the only shot is a toe-bash from Mark O’Hara that finishes somewhere near Stranraer. The boys get the bollocking of their lives at half-time and Guus Til eventually has our first shot on target which is beaten away by Kasper Schmiechel — a free agent signing in the summer.
We go two at the back and Aymen comes on, and we are denied a stonewall penalty by the 10% sighted Andy Gorham who has inexplicably been appointed despite my protestations that I would set fire to his shoes if I ever saw him again. Further efforts from Osame, Vasilios and Guus are all saved by the Great(ish) Dane and Simone has two efforts saved in the dying minutes. with 2 minutes to go, a cross in sees Guus hit the post — and when the ball is recycled out Vasilios dummies to cross and curls in a ball to the back post…HITS THE BAR!! With the last of the sand in the hourglass I yell at the boys to push forwards and Kik brings it up and gives it wide to Aymen. He looks up and drives past his man to the byline and cuts the ball back…..WHERE BILLY GILMOUR SMASHES IT HOME FROM TEN YARDS WITH THE LAST KICK OF THE GAME!!!!!
Billy signs on the dotted line not long after the game is finished and we’ve got him locked down for an additional £15m on his clause. Which I will ask for if anyone ever bids for him — not a fucking penny less.
It’s a quiet week ahead of our two biggest fixtures of the season so far, Celtic away and Spurs at home. Celtic Park is bouncing when we get there as they look to take revenge for our last meeting. Kyogo is out, which is good as he’s fucking outrageously good every time he plays us — and we slide back into the old familiar 3331 formation. It’s like a warm bath of ‘Fuck you SFA’.
Billy stings the gloves of Siegrist early before we get our first slice of luck from the SFA this season as Chris Wood has a strike ruled out for offside. Quite right, was fucking miles off. They’ve gone two up and Giakoumakis causes a moment of worry winning a towering header, but its cleared and Billy brings it forwards. He look to his left and sees a sprinting Osame — who runs onto the ball and finishes with all the aplomb of John Virgo on Big Break. 1–0.
Wood has another header narrowly wide before Guus shoots wide when he should score and Georgios forces a stunning one-handed save from Siegrist after getting a yard on the turn. With minutes til half-time Shaun Rooney gets away down the right and crosses for Montgomery — but Coniah is squal to his effort and even manages to save the follow up from Jimmy the Greek Giakoumakis to preserve our lead.
Into the second half and Wesley comes on for the hosts, but it’s Koutsias that has the next chance with another fine effort spectacularly dealt with by Siegrist. We hold down the fort beautfully until 80 minutes, and I make a triple change to give us some fresh legs out wide and try to catch them on the break. They have a late shout for a penalty turned down (quite fucking right yet again) but we play out the game in relative calm — their 2 shots in the entire game both coming at the end of the first half.
And then its onto Spurs. Before the game we wave goodbye to Ade and Jerome John, who have decided to start their own security company. They immediately get the contracts for the hotel and away trips, and I bring in Patrick Osme and Paul Clements to replace them — who whilst not as intimidating are infinitely better coaches. Rangers manage to lose to the Monster Botherers as well, which means we now have a very healthy cushion at the top of the table.
I start to make preparations for January with a bid going in for a DMC who has rejected us before, but I hope to lure him in after we beat Spurs at Rugby Park. I tell the fans in the press conference beforehand they need to bring the noise, and boy do they. The trip to the ground is like a title parade with blue smoke flares and music pumping from every corner. Nuno shakes my hand and Ian Cathro looks up from his laptop to mutter something unintelligible about xG. Fuck these guys and fuck Spurs. This is ours to lose.
The rain is pissing down as the game kicks off, and Hojbjerg slips in midfield allowing Guus to slide in and win the ball. He picks out Georgios on the shoulder of Romero and he creates enough of a gap to fire in a shot, which Costa tips wide. Son has a couple of runs which end in clearances before a cross from Billy is met by Guus…forcing Costa into an acrobatic save. Just minutes later, another clever ball from Billy sees Georgios up against Romero again, and he knocks the ball past him…BUT IS BROUGHT DOWN!!! THATS A RED CARD!!! ROMERO IS OFF!!!
The crowd lifts a level an Simone hits a shot that Costa does well to tip over and the corner from Osame is headed off the outside of the post by Williams. Georgios is next to have a go again and Costa saves. AGAIN. I turn to Catts wondering how the hell we can beat the Portuguese. A hopeful appeal for a penalty from Guus is turned down but he’s knocked off the ball minutes later in the box. The gathered masses scream for a penalty (save for 300 Spurs fans) but it’s turned down again — as if the SFA have ordered it after we got two decisions against Celtic.
Eventually they sacrifice Cowell for McDonald to shore up their defence, but it just gives us more room in midfield to weave magic. Ante and Simone create the space, Billy gets the ball on the left edge and curls a ball to the back post…WHERE VASILIOS HEADS IT PAST COSTA!!! ITS 1–0!!!!!! Further chances from Osame and Billy narrowly miss as we go in at half-time to a thunderous ovation 1–0 up.
Straight from kick-off, Vasilios has an effort saved by Costa and then Spurs have their first chance of the game as Son wins a free-kick 25 yards out. He steps up and hits it with power…AND IT CRACKS OFF THE CROSSBAR. Justin completes the clearance and we settle down after Catts yells the entire riot act with prologue and epilogue in a 90 second rant that would make Malcolm Tucker look like Mary Whitehouse.
Just as Spurs are beginning to press, a strong challenge in midfield gets the ball forwards and Hernandez can only put the ball behind under pressure from Georgios. The corner from Osame comes in, and Kik meets it with a firm header….SAVED BY COSTA….BY GEORGIOS KNOCKS IN THE REBOUND!!! SACRE-BLEU IS WHAT I WOULD BE SAYING IF I WAS FRENCH BUT I’M NOT!!!!!!!!
Dangerman Gouiri comes on, but its Ante with a bullocking run that has the next chance, his low shot just missing the bottom left hand corner. Minutes later as I’m getting Paul and Kerr ready to come on, Simone wins the ball for the 1700th time in the game and plays it to Billy. As he brings it forwards the defence back off, and he keeps going past Son, and going past Cho…and going past Hernandez…AND GOING INTO THE BOX….AND SHOOTS!!! OH MY WORD BILLY GILMOUR!!! ITS A SENSATIONAL GOAL!!!
There isn’t a seat still sat on in the stands with 10 minutes left as the fans do the Poznan whilst singing the entire songbook. On 84 minutes, I book myself in for a heart check and an eye test as Vasilios beats his man and curls a ball in for Paul Nebel, who volleys it past Costa to make it 4-FUCKING- NIL!!!! By the time that Son eventually has a shot on target in the final minute, Coniah beats it away and I’m off on a lap of the ground. It’s the greatest night in club history.
And you know what, I fucking fancy this second stage draw…
