Chapter I - La Vida Coca
Upside, inside out,
She's livin' la vida loca
She'll push and pull you down,
livin' la vida loca
Her lips are devil red
and her skin's the color mocha
She will wear you out
Livin la vida loca...
Ricky Martin was blasting out of the stereo while I was tottering down the stairs towards the pool; a bottle of Dom Perignon in my left hand, a piece of Latina ass in my right. The party was in full swing and I hummed the melody of the song while fighting my way through the crowd. Life was great, life was loca.
As every year, I was spending my summer at "Casa Patinoza" in Mendoza, the beautiful Argentine city whose football club I have helped achieve worldwide fame years earlier under the aegis of CMSG Ltd. I have worked with this organisation three more times after my stint at Independiente Rivadavia de Mendoza but eventually retired from managing to become a full-time playboy. In the meanwhile, it has also gotten very quiet around CMSG Ltd. and it was even rumoured that they disbanded altogether.
Anyway, as every year, I turned the night into day, opening the gates to all kinds of strangers to come party with me. I finally reached the pool and threw myself on one of the sun loungers. I asked Isabella or Sofia or Natalia or whatever her name was, to get me another bottle of champagne and closed my eyes to get away from it all for a second.
"Got yourself a bonnie lass there. "
I looked up to see a pale man with bad teeth smiling at me. I gave him a drunk nod.
"Wanna have some?" he asked and pointed towards a white substance on the little garden table in front of him.
"Nah, I am good. I don't take this kind of stuff, thanks!", I uttered.
"Come on lad, ye seem down a bit. I'll bob it into a nice line for ye."
"Fuck sake, alright alright. Once doesn't count, I guess." I kneeled down next to the table and snorted a long line of this mysterious white substance. And this was the last thing I remember about that particular night.
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Chapter II - The Aftermath
I woke up on the floor staring into fluorescent light. What the fuck happened? Did I get hit by a bus?
"Oh hello there matey! Welcome back!", said a familiar-sounding voice.
I picked myself up and looked around. Still being dizzy and the bright light shining straight into my face, I had trouble recognizing the shady character that I had a brief chat with at my home.
Me: "Where the fuck am I?"
Stranger: "Mendoza police station. In a holding cell.", he said.
Me: "Fuuck ... what did I do?"
Stranger: "Where shall I start? You went fully bonkers last night, matey. Covering the police chief's garage in graffiti. Going on a drug-fuelled rampage through town..
Stranger: "No no no matey. I prepared two lines; one for you and one for me. You just snorted all the way through.."
Me: "Oh fuck man. Call Isabella or Sofia or Natalia or whatever her name is and tell her to get me the fuck out of there.
Stranger: "Yeah... about your lass... I don't know how to put this..... ehm.... she is sueing you for all you got..."
Me: "What the fuck? Why?"
Stranger: "Hard to explain matey... I think it's best if you have a look yourself.."
He handed me his phone through the bars and I played back the video...
Me: "What the hell????!"
Stranger: "Yep... hilarious, innit? Ye are a proper nutcase. No strength in your arm either. Didn't quite threw her far enough matey. Not too worry though, she only broke a couple bones.. nothing too serious. Anyway, I don't think you got a big future in this town. With all the charges, ye are looking at 2-3 years time in an Argentine jail."
Me: "No no no no, I can't go to jail. I am way too pretty for that. Who the fuck are you anyway?"
Stranger: "Who I am depends on you matey. I can be your best friend. Or just a random Englishman passing through the beautiful town of Mendoza.
Me: "Cut the crap. I blackmailed enough people myself in the past. What do you want from me?"
Stranger: "Well... I really don't want anything from you and couldn't care less about your pitiful self. My employers on the other hand see something in you and have tasked me to present you with a job offer. You may have heard of them. They are CM...
Me: "..SG fucking limited.. Whereever they fucking are, mayhem isn't far. They can go fuck themselves. I don't manage football teams anymore.
Stranger: "I see..... never mind then, have a wonderful time. Bye bye matey." He started walking towards the exit.
Me: "Hey hey hey.. stay here. Jesus fucking Christ. You could have at least asked nicely. I'll do it. Just get me out of this shithole here.
Stranger: "That's music to my ears. I have managed to secure us a short window to get you out of Argentina. We need to be quick." He nodded towards a guard who opened the cell.
We walked outside where a car was already waiting for us.
Stranger: "Get in."
He pushed me into the car and it sped off.
Me: "Where are we going?"
Stranger: "To the airport. We are flying to England."
We sat next to each other silently while the driver navigated the streets of Mendoza.
Stranger: "By the way matey, I was bluffing back there. My employers told me to come back with you or not come back at all. I have seen their shortlist of managers in case I was to fail. Redknapp69, Craig Forrest etc... no-name run-of-the-mill managers with no accolades and no charisma. Men who can't be entrusted with a job as important as this."
Me: "You fu...."
Stranger: "Shshshs.... let's refrain from the name-calling. And I'd suggest you watch your language in my home country. Your excessive use of the F-word is inacceptable... Driver, turn up the radio!"
Woke up in New York City
In a funky cheap hotel
She took my heart and she took my money
She must have slipped me a sleeping pill...
It was the same song I have last heard at my place when all this mess started. "Go suck a dick, Ricky Martin.", I quietly muttered.
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Chapter III - Dead wood is no good
We were about to touch down on English soil and I still didn't know where we were going. I asked several times but the stranger I was travelling with only spoke in riddles.
"They are a big English club", he said. "But struggled recently. You will be walking in the footsteps of managers such as Brian Clough. Legends like Ian Rush used to play for them as well."
So it was Nottingham Forest. Or Liverpool? Did Clough ever manage Liverpool? Did Rush ever play for Forest? I didn't quite know. Both would make sense managing. Once they were both big clubs but these days one of them is mediocre at best and the other one’s a bottler. Both in need of a strong man at a helm.
We landed and I had barely left the private plane we were flying with when I got pushed into a black limousine. Inside I got greeted by a smarmy Arab man.
Arab: "Mr. Inoz, so glad to have you here. I am Salah Nooruddin, chai..."
Me: "Gesundheit." He gave me a puzzled look.
Arab: "Mr. Inoz, I am chairman of Leeds United and absolutely delighted that you are here. CMSG Ltd have told me many a good thing about you.
Eeeugh. Leeds. I felt a bit disappointed and uninspired. They weren't the greatest side but far from the worst either. This season is hardly gonna pose a challenge. I exhaled loudly.
Me: "Alright Mr. Noodles, drive me to the training ground. And send word to the coaches to round up the first team and their reserve. And call their agents too. We gonna clear the dung out today."
I put on my Beats and ignored the poor fool for the rest of the way.
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We arrived a short time later and I could already spot a large crowd standing around on the pitch from far away.
"Oi!", I yelled. Everybody turned their head.
Assistant Manager: "Ah, Mr. Inoz. Nigel Gibbs's my name. I have gathered everybody as you ordered. 43 players in total.
Me: "Forty-three? What am I supposed to do with forty-three players?!"
I stood there thinking for a moment.
Me: "Alright lads, line up and take turns at yelling “one” and two”.
They did as I asked.
Me: Alrighty lads, all the 1s go to centre of the pitch please. All the 2s; please go inside, clean out your lockers and tell your agents you need a new club.”
Both 1s and 2s looked at me flabbergasted.
Me: “Come on, I won’t say it again. Chop chop chop! Nigel, you take care of the remaining 22 players. Run a couple laps, do some sprints and cap it off with an hour in the gym. I have got more urgent business to attend.
He nodded and I walked upstairs to my office. I sat down inside and stared at the remaining names on the team sheet.
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Chapter IV - Wheeling and Dealing
Me: "Alweid Daf", I said between two bites of Bratwurst, "tess cough cough cough." I accidently swallowed a big piece of Bratwurst and had to wash the remaining pieces in my throat down with a large gulp of Pilsener. "Alright Dave, the squad isn't top quality but I have seen worse. Nonetheless, a couple of players to boost the squad quality are needed. What does our transfer kitty look like?"
He didn't respond but let his eyes still wander around my office.
Dave: "Mr. Inoz, you will be pleased to hear that I have sold my shares in a Bangladeshi sweat shop. You have got £4.3m at your disposal."
Me: "Hey hey, first words out of your mouth that I actually like."
I already had a couple of offers on my desk for a bunch of 2s so I was quite content that money didn't look to be a problem. I shoved Mr. Noodles out the door and was about to close it
Dave: "I also have to inform you though that, in agreement with CMSG Ltd., we look to be building a title-challening team of primarily English players combined with the finest foreign youth."
Me: "Who did you think I am gonna bolster the squad with? Read my vita. I don't play old has-beens. I am all for young talents I can shape as I want and pass my immense wisdom onto. Now leave me alone. I have to make a couple phone calls."
I phoned some contacts of mine, called in a couple of favours and it didn't take long for the deals to be sealed and the players to be greeted at Elland Road.
First signing of the season was a young Swedish right-back. We weren't exactly short on right-back as Byram, Lees and Wooton were all able to play the position but this was too good an opportunity to miss. 19-year old Emil Krafth joined us from Helsingborg for a fee of £950k and I fancied him to be Leed's right-back for the next decade.
While we had enough central midfielders, we lacked a versatile attacking mid who could play all sides. CMSG and Dave asked for English players and young players so I was gonna give them both in one go. Tom Ince couldn't resist the chance to play under such a prestigous manager and joined us from Blackpool for £2m.
Which left me with only 2 holes in the squad to fill. A centre-back was needed as none of the ones at the club inspired me with confidence. Martin Kelly left Liverpool and joined the Leeds revolution for £1.1m.
The last signing, and also the most important one, was going to be a big body upfront. Only 18-year old Luke Parkin was left after the cull earlier in the week and that wasn't gonna be enough for an entire season. So I scraped up the remaining pennies and lured 21-year old Pierre-Michel Lasogga from Hertha to Leeds for £3.5m.
So after all the 2s had gone...
... I was left with 26 players to undertake promotion.
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Chapter V - Rollercoaster
Referee Paul Rejer blew his whistle and the first league game of the season was under way. We played away at Watford and I lined the team up in a somewhat defensive 4-5-1 formation.
We went behind after half an hour but turned the game around in the second half to win 2:1. Luke Parkin, the 18-year old back-up striker scored our first goal of the season. We went on to win the next 2 league games against Leicester and Nottingham Forest (Ross McCormack scoring the winner with the last kick of the game against Leicester) and found ourselves in second position in the league. We also won in the first round of the League Cup; exactly the kind of start of the season I was hoping for.
Sadly we hit a brick wall after that. 2 draws and 2 losses in the next 4 league games saw us drop down to 9th position. On top of that, we conceded 12 goals in those first 7 league games not managing a single clean sheet. The players didn't put my tactical instructions into practice and I knew it was gonna be extremely hard to get promoted with such a leaky defense.
A change of tactics was needed .
We practiced this set-up in the 2nd round of the League Cup and while we didn't keep a clean sheet, we managed to win the game 2:1 and I liked what I saw. The next 3 league games confirmed my observations. We won them all only conceding once in those 3 matches. Our good form saw us move up to 4th spot on the table; within striking distance to the top 3.
But once again, it went pear-shaped soon after. No win the next 5 matches; drawing 3 and losing 2, saw us back to where we just been, 9th position. This was starting to piss me off massively. Every brilliant tactical idea of mine only seemed to work a couple of weeks.
The last game of October was to be the 3rd round match in the League Cup. We did well in the first 2 rounds beating Accrington and Charlton respectively but this was gonna be a big test if there ever was one.
We were to travel to the Etihad to play Manchester City. Well, that was just great. I had a slight hope of going on a decent cup run and sneaking into Europe. This was more or less out of the question now; at least regarding the League Cup.
The match kicked off and started with a bang. Norris crossed the ball to Lasogga who headed it past Hart. 1:0 up at the Etihad in the 3rd minute. Was this gonna be one of those magical days where everything just clicks into place. Sadly, it wasn't. Nasri and Aguero soon turned the game around and City won 2:1. Nonetheless, this was one of our better games in recent weeks.
I was disappointed for a while but had more pressing matters to take care of; our abysmal league form.
So once again back to the drawing board. I had played with 4 defenders, and I had played with 3 defenders so there was only option left, play 5 at the back. 3 central defenders were tasked to shut up shop at the back and 2 offensive wingbacks were not only supposed to help them but also support the attack.
And it worked a treat. We not only found back to our winning form but we also won in style.
Of the next 11 league games, we won 8, drew 2 and only lost 1. We were sitting 2nd in the league table and life was good.
And then the inevitable happened. We lost form and played like a team battling relegation. 0:2 loss against Brighton, 0:0 in the FA Cup against Football League outfit MK Dons and finally a 0:1 loss against Nottingham Forest. 3 games, no win and not even a single goal scored. We dropped down to 4th and were even in danger of missing out of the playoff places.
It did my freaking head in. 29 games played, 17 to go and it was impossible to put a finger on where our season was heading.
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Chapter VI - By the skin of our teeth
Having played with one striker the entire time, I finally abandoned the idea and put 2 men upfront. Lasogga and McCormack were tasked to just outscore the opposition as my defense was useless. I cramped up the middle of the pitch as my fullbacks were at least half decent and could deal with the additional pressure.
As expected, it worked wonders. We won 10 of the next 11 games; our only loss coming in the FA Cup where we were yet again drawn against Manchester City. We were sitting at the top of the table, 7 points clear of second place and god knows how many of 3rd and 7th respectively having just won 9 league matches in a row. With only that many matches left to go, there was no way we were gonna bottle the title....
... but something we did must have properly pissed off the football gods as we went on the biggest losing run I have ever experienced in my entire career. It started with us being complacent and then desperately looking for the switch to turn it all around; a switch we never found.
We lost the next 8 league games and dropped down to 5th. Self-destruction beyond belief. I frantically changed tactics, had conversations with the players etc. but nothing worked. We looked like a Sunday League outfit on the pitch.
With only 1 game to go, we were in danger of dropping out of the playoff positions altogether. Outrageous. Anybody who had bet on that 2 months ago would have been rich by now.
We were playing Doncaster who were sitting mid-table and had nothing to play for anymore. This wasn't a sign of hope though; the way we played recently, they could have rocked up with their B-team and we'd have struggled.
Leicester and Burnley were playing against each other which meant that, in case we lose, the winning team in that match will automatically overtake us. Blackburn was hosting 3rd-placed Derby and Birmingham played away at Ipswich. Both teams had the chance to overtake us on goal difference without needing crazy results go their way.
In other words, the situation was as serious as it gets. A draw would have sufficed but considering we lost the last 8 league games on the bounce, we definitely weren't gonna play for a draw. The games kicked off and I instructed my assistant manager to keep me up to date with results from the other stadiums.
11 minutes had gone and I received good news. Blackburn were 1:0 behind to Derby and momentarily seemed to be out of the promotion race. It was still 0:0 in the other games. We started brightly against Doncaster and kept them occupied in their own half but failed to convert on the dominance so far.
After half an hour, news broke from Ipswich. Scott Allan had put Birmingham 1:0 up. As soon as the result made its way around the stadium, I could see the fear in my player's face. Everything was ok as it was still 0:0 here but god forbid we concede a goal...
... which of course promptly happened. With one of their first attacks of the game and only 2 minutes after Birmingham went ahead in their game against Ipswich, Doncaster scored.
We were now on equal points with Birmingham. We were still ahead but by the narrowest of margins; a single goal. Our goal difference was +18 at the moment; Birmingham's +17.
"Fuck my life! This cannot be happening!", I thought to myself. Thankfully enough, the team didn't appear too shocked. Some say that a cornered animal is the most dangerous animal and this was certainly true that day. We hit back only 10 minutes later; midfielder David Norris scoring of a Kebe cross. 1:1!
With the half-time whistle, we got another update from the other stadiums. Derby were now 2:0 up against Blackburn, Burnley were leading Leicester which only had relevance for 5th and 6th place though and Daryl Murphy had scored the equalizer for Ipswich against Birmingham in 45th minute.
I took a deep breath and tried to have a calming influence on my players at half time. Everything was under control, no need to worry.
We started the second half fiercely with several shots on Doncaster's goal but bloody Chris Weale, their goalkeeper, had his best game of the season. Shot after shot after shot he saved and I was starting to despair a little. Thankfully Ipswich turned the game around and were 2:1 up against Birmingham now; courtesy of Alex Henshall.
In the 77th minute, we finally managed to get one past Weale; Byram, after a mazy run down the wing, crossed it inside to Cameron Stewart who converted. 2:1 Leeds. However, it was symbolic for the last couple weeks that we couldn't hold onto that lead. Harry Forrester scored a nice freekick for Doncaster only a couple minutes later and the game ended 2:2. Didn't really matter now though, we made it into the playoffs as both Blackburn and Birmingham lost their games and we even stayed in 5th position as Burnley beat Leicester. Nonetheless, a win would have been nice to give the boys some self-confidence for the play-offs.
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Chapter VII - Dreading Reading
Having finished 5th, we were to play 4th placed Reading in the play-offs. We were at home for the first leg before travelling to the Madejski Stadium for the return leg. They were a good team with great attacking players but, similar to us, also had a leaky defence. Going from the regular season matches, it was gonna even games. They beat us 1:0 at home in the first half of the season and we beat them 1:0 at home in the new year.
I switched back to the 3-at-the-back formation we played earlier in the year.
We started brightly and were once again the dominant team without scoring a goal though. Just before the half an hour mark our supporters were in uproar. Kraft got fouled inside the box and Phil Dowd gave a penalty. Lassoga lined up and ....
"Great. Exactly what we needed...", I said to myself.
We continued to dominate and only 1 minute later ...
Unfortunately my joy only lasted for a couple of minutes as fucking Pogrebnyak equalized. Reading had scored the important away goal.
The teams went into halftime with the score being 1:1.
We ran at them the entire second half, had chance after chance but were constantly denied by Jakupovic who later got voted MOTM. It was immensely annoying and we were slowly but surely running out of time.
We were already in the 90th minute when Norris sent a long ball from midfield into the box...
What a relief! For the first time in 10 games, we left the pitch as winners! This was surely gonna boost morale.
We travelled to Reading 4 days later with a clear task in our mind. Score an early away goal and then hit them on the counter. I made only one change: Sam Byram came in for our hero Emil Krafth who was in desperate need of a rest.
Mike Tingey blew into his whistle and the game kicked off. We attacked Reading early and I couldn't have dreamt of a better start when McCormack scored in the 2nd minute.
We had scored the much needed away goal but didn't stop there. Lasogga made it 2:0 after only 15 minutes.
2:0 up away against Reading, 2:1 win at home against them; surely we had secured our ticket to the final in Wembley. Surely...
This was one of my main problems this season. I constantly jinxed it.
It was the 29th minute when disaster struck. Reading's striker Pogrebnyak dribbled into the box but Butland came out and took it cleanly from his feet. Butland was throwing it out to the wing to iniate the counter-attack when I heard a whistle. I watched in horror as that fat cunt Mike Tingey pointed to the spot. But it got even worse. He showed Butland the red card and that was when I lost it. I ran onto the pitch towards Tingley...
... yelling "You fat fucking corrupt cunt! You won't be blowing your whistle anymore when I have cut your fucking fingers off and fed them to you!" Just as I was about to strike down Tingley I got tackled by security and escorted off the pitch..
Le Fondre scored the penalty and it was 2:1. The team was completely shaken up now and Stephen Kelly equalized for Reading only 2 minutes later. Unbelievable! 3 minutes ago we were 2:0 up and on the bus to Wembley. Now it was suddenly 2:2 and we were down to 10 men. Football is fucking cruel.
Reading needed another 2 goals but considering they just scored 2 within 3 minutes and there was still an hour left, it was hardly impossible
Fortunately, we avoided the worst-case scenario. We parked the bus in front of goal for the remainder of the game and Reading didn't manage to score another one despite their dominance.
Wembley, here we come!!
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Chapter VIII - The Art of War
I looked in the eyes of my soldiers and saw determination. War would commence in a couple of minutes and it would be my last one as general of this battalion. I had been ordered away by my superiors; new challenges were waiting for me.
I sent my warriors out onto the battlefield. Today's enemy was Derby County and there could only be one victorious party. We had to chance to be immortalized; to have songs written about us which the people would sing for centuries to come. But first, we needed to defeat the army on the other side of the battlefield. History always gets written by the winners.
We attempted to blitz them in the first couple minutes but their defensive wall withstood the pressure. The first half an hour of the battle was marked by trench warfare. Nobody gained significant ground; everybody was afraid to make the first mistake.
Suddenly, a Derby soldier managed to pierce a hole through our defense line and we suffered a near fatal blow. Just one second we were unfocused and it had cost us dearly.
Back on the battlefield, we remained close to our fortress. They knew they had superior position on the battlefield and were only waiting for us to come storming at them; letting their archers pick off our soldiers one by one. But all warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive, when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.
Time was starting to run out but we remained patient. I scouted our enemy's stronghold and finally found a weakness. We plotted a perfidious plan. Lieutenant Lasogga was tasked with silently making his way through our enemy's camp breaching their last line of defense and making them suffer a blow to remember.
The battle went on for another thirty minutes with no result and the men were starting to tire. We called a truce and agreed on an honorable way to end this war once and for all.
Each army would send their 5 strongest warriors who'd engage in close-battle combat to determine the winner of this war. I gave Pierre-Michel Lasogga, Rodolph Austin, Sam Byram, Emil Krafth and Ross McCormack the chance to become heroes. Derby County sent Jamie Ward, Johnny Russell, Chris Martin, Craig Forsyth and James O'Connor. Everybody was holding their breath when the signal sounded to start fighting.
We got off to a glorious start. Derby's Jamie Ward fell early; closely followed by Johnny Russell. We now had the numbers in our favour but Derby wouldn't give up so easily. We suffered the first casualty shortly after; god bless Rodolph Austin. The fight went on but neither Martin and Forsyth nor Byram and Krafth commited any mistakes. But James O'Connor did. He lost focus for a split second and we made him pay.
Derby County yielded and the brave men from Leeds United had won the war. The Fallen Giants have risen once again. Hooray!
CML Mod)
Originally Posted by Dermotron
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Un-fucking-real!
