Diamond Geezers, Episode 27: Two of the greatest footballers of all time are here. Seriously.
The curtain raises on our first ever season in Division Two, and behind it is a familiar foe. QPR were unlucky enough to be drawn against us in two different cup competitions last season, firstly in the FA Cup 2nd Round, where we trounced them 3–1, and then again in the Vans Trophy South Semi Final where we were quite fortunate to come away with a 2–1 win. They finished 4th in the league last season and were desperately unlucky not to be promoted to the First Division — they lost 3–1 to Stoke in the playoff final. They’ve also had a decent pre-season, smashing two Premier League teams along the way, so we’ll need to be at our very best to get off to a winning start.
They’re at 100% fitness, but so are we. A few of my new charges come into the side — Mike Duff, Christian Kalvenes and Marcel Mahouvé will make their full debuts. Otherwise, it’s a familiar team to any Rushden loyals — Big Hugo protects our goalsheets, Freddie the Fence and Richard “The NeverEnding Story” Gough partner at centre-half, Bubb, Pflipsen and Brandon are wandering midfield maestros and the irrepressible Peter Møller and Sir Les Ferdinand make up one of the most potent strike forces in the country.
Simply The Best by Tina Turner thunders around Nene Park. The Peter De Banke Terrace is full to bursting with the Rushden Ultras. Half-and-half scarves at the ready, everyone else. Our triumphant Second Division season is underway!
QPR, wearing their purple-sock-left-in-the-white-wash changed strips, look menacing as the referee’s whistle starts the game — but soon, your mighty Diamonds are in the ascendency. First, Mike Duff heads down for Pflipsen to get a sighter in on Brad Freidel’s goal, but he misses the target for now. We are still dangerous, though, and after Friedel saves twice from Chris Brandon, two of my new lads combine to open the scoring. Mahouvé makes his way into the box, collects a pass from Bubb, and lays the ball on a plate for Mike Duff to stride away from Carl Bradshaw and thunder a debut goal past Friedel to give us the lead. Mahouvé gets a booking for squaring up to Clarke Carlisle, who he knows is only just back from a serious knee injury — I’d watch yourself, Clarke — but otherwise, it’s an excellent 45. The only down side is that we’re only 1–0 up as the lads hit the changing rooms at half time. I hand them each a slice of lemon instead of orange to keep them humble, they seem to get the message, and we head back out for the second period.
We make a very solid start to the half. Møller meets a Kalvenes cross but can only head against the post, Gough gets booked for a trip on Bradshaw but manages to get Bradshaw booked as well — well done there — and just afterwards, we get a free kick, Kalvenes takes it quickly, and Freddie the Fence appears to smash a ferocious right-footed shot beyond Friedel to give us a 2–0 lead! It’s his first goal for the mighty Diamonds at an excellent time. We are on top, but QPR are dangerous from set pieces. Bubb is booked for a foul on Doudou, Bradshaw steps up, swings in the free kick, and Clarke Carlisle rises above Brandon to pump home a header to reduce the deficit.
It’s a real ding-dong battle now. Pflipsen tests Friedel from range, then Griffiths beats Risp and curls a shot that Pinheiro flies to his left to tip round the post. Pflipsen nods down for Brandon to batter a half volley that Friedel turns away. I put Farnerud on for Bubb and Javan replaces Sir Les, who hasn’t managed a single shot so far today. Javan is a threat immediately, forcing a low save from Friedel, but Griffiths is still testing Pinheiro — and he needs to be alert to fist another shot away. We tick into the 89th minute, and we’re so close to the narrowest of opening wins that I’m clenching myself into a singularity — and just as I think we’re going to close it out, disaster strikes. Doudou rounds Kalvenes and whips a cross into the near post where Griffiths, our arch tormentor, is there to head past Hugo and QPR have levelled the game right at the death.
I explode out of my chair and scream at my players for letting a two-goal lead slip, and not seeing the game out when we had every opportunity. They all look dejected… except for one man. It’s the 92nd minute. Chris Brandon collects the ball from kick off, dances past Langley, drives forward, jinks away from Chris Perry, marauds into the box and blasts a hellraiser past Friedel! It’s 3–2, in the most unbelievable of circumstances — AND IT’S ALL OVER! What a game, what a start to the season! Oh, my goodness, I am exhausted. We’re only one game in and I am jelly.
Wow, what a game. The delirium I feel afterwards even allows me to be okay about Maxim Tsigalko going to Hertha Berlin, and Salamanca grabbing Iván Moreno y Fabianesi. Financially I had no chance with either, so what can you do? You can celebrate a win against one of the best teams in the league, that’s what. The touchline drinks cabinet yawns in my wake.
In ridiculous transfer news, Paul Gascoigne is finally released by Everton. I make him an offer of a one-year backup player contract worth seven grand a week and a roast chicken as a signing-on fee, which he seems happy to accept, and I cross my fingers that the most naturally gifted English midfielder in a generation decides to settle for a quiet, wholesome year in Northamptonshire. I also submit extremely derisory bids for Roberto Baggio, Alessandro Costacurta and David Ginola, not because I need any of them, but because shirt sales.
Chugger and his sellotaped-on roof cart us to London Road next to take on top-of-the-table Peterborough United. A little misleading, since we’ve only played one game, The Posh battered newly-promoted Rochdale 4–1 in their opener to lead the table after one round of fixtures, but the truth of their squad is that they finished 14th in the league last season and they aren’t great individually. Their star players are keeper Mark Tyler and striker Neale Fenn, along with melodic attacking midfielder Paul Weller. I’ll be instructing Marcel “La Mort” Mahouvé to do something to him… something deep inside. My team is unchanged for this one. It’s clobbering time.
It’s an incredibly tense and nervy first half. Peterborough are no doubt the more successful attacking side, and it’s no surprise when their pressure on our goal tells. We have a few chances through Møller and Pflipsen, but Pinheiro is by far the busier goalkeeper and eventually Gary Croft lifts a pass into the area for Leon McKenzie to smash past big Hugo for 1–0 right on the stroke of half time. My players, however, keep going right to the very end, and as Posh are eyeing the custard creams, Chris Brandon charges through midfield and floats a cross to the far post for the Great Dane to equalise. It’s 1–1 at half time, but we’re lucky to be level. I’ve underestimated Peterborough, and they are the better side.
I remove Pflipsen’s central midfield run to keep him pivoting in the middle of the pitch for the second half, and it definitely shows. Small tactical tweaks like that can make a big difference, and now — while Posh are still definitely a threat — we are getting on the ball far more and making chances at the other end. Ferdinand shoots wide and is then caught offside, in yet another game where we reach the hour mark and he’s only registered a 6. Are we seeing the decline of the great Sir Les? Just as I start to question him, he turns and slides in Pflipsen who hits a savage shot that Tyler turns behind for a corner. I replace Sir Les with Javan once more, and again, he’s immediately in the action, meeting a Kalvenes cross and firing a hard, low shot that Tyler needs to save. Farnerud then whips a free kick onto the head of Mahouvé that Tyler saves once more, and he’s there yet again to deny Møller after he heads a Duff cross goalwards. By now we are fully on top, and only Tyler is keeping us from taking the lead. He saves four further shots on target, and the game finishes 1–1. After a dodgy opening half, we finish with what feels like a disappointing draw. On another day, we’d have had them there.
After the game is over, Cristiano Ronaldo comes to see me at the front of Chugger as we trundle our way towards Barnsley. He tells me that, after over a year here, he’s also struggling to adapt to the English lifestyle. Have you been spending too much time with that Barzagli lad? I knew I shouldn’t have made you bunk up together. He’s a bad influence. You’ve been here far too long to be struggling now — what’s really happening is that you’re unhappy you’re not playing. I understand. You can also go on the loan list and we’ll see if we can’t get you some games in the Conference.
I get my worn leather notebook out and make plans for our trip to Oakwell. I have a sad feeling that Pflipsen and Ferdinand are on the decline, and it might be time for Martin Andersson and Meysam Javan to stake their claims. Then again, they are both legends, and Barnsley is a big game. Can you afford to take out players of their stature before such a crucial tie?
I press Continue, and my heart does a little skip. I have a feeling the club shop is going to be pretty busy for the next couple of months…
