Diamond Geezers, Episode 41: City of Le God
We start today with big news in the FA Cup: the Fourth Round is drawn, and we’ll face West Bromwich Albion at Nene Park. Mad Dog McKinlay vs Derek McInnes is a bare-knuckle fight I’d pay to watch… and I might just get to.
Our second win of the season against Premier League Sunderland has got me bouncing in my seat, but as ever, there’s very little time for my knackered players to recover before we’re back aboard Chugger for the long away trip to Dean Court. Bournemouth are not having a good time of it this season, sitting inside the relegation zone after collecting just 22 points from 26 games, which is music to my eyes. Half my starting team need a rest, and this looks like just the game to do it.
As a result, Teddy, Sir Les, Bubb and Farnerud all drop out, making way for Forrest, Renner, Davies and the debuting Morten Knutsen, whose position is officially listed as ML, but I’m retraining him to play in centre-mid after he moaned about my trying to convert him into an auxiliary left-back. Fine then, Morten. You want to play centre-mid? Show me what you got.
George Ndah is on 11 goals in 19 games for Bournemouth, as I discover soon after kick-off. His combination with Jari Niemi down the Bournemouth left gives me palpitations in the first five minutes as the duo force Pinheiro into two fine saves, but on six minutes, Jamie Victory takes it upon himself to provide me with some welcome relief. He collects a pass from Javan on the left, advances forward, tears into the box, accelerates past Eddie Howe and hits a savage drive low past Gavin Ward to give us an early lead! And moments later, it’s two — Knutsen starts the move, knocking down for Jamie Davies to hit a long-range effort that clangs back off the post, but right into the path of Javan! Javan shoots! Ward saves, but can’t hold it! Knutsen is there! KNUTSEN! It’s 2–0, and my debutant impresses me forever by taking just eight minutes to score his first goal for the mighty Diamonds. Consider yourself part of the family, kid.
Unfortunately, the rest of the half is far less comfortable — indeed, only a superhero performance from big Hugo maintains our lead as we approach half time, and we go in 2–0 up but having had the same number of shots on target as the Cherries. I’m disappointed with the invisible Renner, so he gets hooked for CR7, and we head back out for the second half, which starts extremely badly. Niemi creates a further two shots on target for Bournemouth, Hugo continues to deny them, and just as my toes are curling into the bottoms of my feet, Jamie Davies collects a loose Howe clearance and puts a cross directly onto the head of Ronaldo, and he nods home to give us a 3–0 lead! This is the sort of game I’m used to being on the receiving end of — completely matching the other team in every department, but finding yourself several goals down. It feels so goddamn sweet to be over the other side.
Our third goal ends Bournemouth’s threat, and they essentially give up trying to score — we don’t, but can’t add to our lead, and the game finishes 3–0. I have to say, it feels rather undeserved, but I guess when you’re down the bottom like Bournemouth are, everything seems to go against you. Even out-of-position opposition debutants rack up monster stats. Six key passes for Knutsen? Jackanackanory.
Meanwhile, my scattered scouts are really earning their money, keeping me abreast of several situations with the likes of Michael Dobson, Fabio Gatti and Simon Rusk. However, it’s my own ingenuity and forward planning that leads me to the news of a certain young man who’s found himself on a free transfer after an end-of-contract move fell through…
Prospective fan-favourite Benjani is on a free; his profile was obviously put together before his ill-fated move to Portsmouth, where Harry Redknapp once described his shooting in training as ‘a threat to nearby aircraft’. Presumably he signed the lad because he saw that he had Long Shots 20 on CM01/02, and I’ll tell you what, if we can nab him for nothing, we probably ought to. His sell on value alone could finance my extravagant spending for at least a transfer window or two.
He wants a £3.4m release fee and £25,000 per week, which is more than Costacurta, Gazza and Sir Les put together — and my board will only allow £15k — so I offer him my maximum just to see what he says. I’m sure he’ll reject it, and we don’t particularly need him, but let’s give ourselves a decision to make. If I end the season promoted with Sir Les and Møller passing their torches to Javan and Benjani, I imagine the teams in Division One will be buying extra-large sofas to hide behind when we come to town.
Soon afterwards, I’m forced to put my shiny new toys away as we welcome Swindon Town to Irthlingborough. In our first game against the Robins earlier in the season, Danny Invincible became the first man in history to evade Marcel Mahouvé long enough to score and assist against us, and we ended up labouring to a 2–2 draw. I’d normally put a hefty wad of cash on Marcel to get his revenge, but he’s suspended today for collecting five bookings, so Mad Dog McKinlay will roll back the years and test the integrity of Invincible’s shinpads. Lucic comes back in for Forrest, Costacurta continues despite being a little tired, Sir Les will certainly replace Renner, and Brandon & Bubb also return to midfield alongside Knutsen, who retains his place after a man-of-the-match performance last time out — though he has once again told me he doesn’t like training, so he’s on thin ice. Another goal might make me turn the other cheek.
I’m very happy to see Danny Invincible neutered out on the right flank, where he’ll be far less dangerous than he is behind the forwards, and summarily tell Jamie Victory to get uncomfortably close to him. After that little instruction, the rest of the first half is one-way traffic towards the Swindon goal, and in a ten-minute blitz, we find ourselves 3–0 up via Javan (2) and Sir Les — all our goals converted from crosses into the box. It’s amazing how many crosses we put in considering we don’t have any wingers. It’s a good thing my players don’t listen to me, really.
The only turds in our otherwise free-flowing waterpipe are injuries to Bubb and Costacurta, who both go down within minutes of each other just before half-time. If we were away, I’d blame the pitch, but seeing as we’re at Nene Park and my ground staff are the envy of world football, it must be something to do with dirty Swindon and their underhanded tactics. I’m forced to replace my wounded warriors with Davies and Gough, meaning I’ll only have one sub I can make in the second half — but on the plus side, it does mean that making tactical changes is now impossible, which takes the pressure off me a bit. Thank goodness. This management lark is stressful.
Ten minutes into the second half, Chris Brandon is forced off injured as well. Were my players out on the piss last night or something? How is it that they can’t make it through a simple home game? It’s not like they’re even getting hurt in tackles; all three of my cry-offs have gone down under their own movements. Martin Andersson comes on, and since Swindon are showing more ambition so far in the half anyway, I cancel everyone’s forward runs in the hope that standing still will mean nobody else can possibly hurt themselves. Swindon defender Matthew Heywood, presumably out of pity and definitely not because I slipped some plane tickets into his bag at half time, gets booked for wiping out Sir Les in the box and Jamie Davies converts the penalty to put us 4–0 up. He then waits ten minutes before doing exactly the same thing again, gets his second yellow, and while he’s marching off down the tunnel, young Davies steps up and tucks away his second pen of the game. A bruising encounter finishes with a highly flattering 5–0 win for your mighty Diamonds; we had a nice first half but were anonymous in the second. Thank goodness for those pens. Enjoy your time off, Matthew.
My physio room is like a military hospital at full-time. Costacurta is out for ten days with a bruised shin — wear pads, Billy — Brandon has pulled his hamstring and will be gone for three weeks, and Byron Bubb has collected himself a textbook groin strain that’ll put him in traction for a fortnight. Nothing too serious, thank goodness. Javan, meanwhile, finished the last game with 100% fitness, meaning he’s either got super-human cardio or he isn’t really trying. I prefer to believe it’s the former.
In light of my injury problems, I chuck a loan bid at Reading for Matt Le Tissier because I’m sure it wouldn’t do my squad much harm to have another legend of English football knocking around until the end of the season, and also fail in bids for Morten Gamst Pedersen and Kim Källström, who don’t want to leave their respective clubs, the devoted fools.
Meanwhile, Leverkusen offer £3.7m for a 24-year-old Miroslav Klose, who I’ve been monitoring for a while. I bid £3m, they accept, but his wage demands are astronomical — and besides, he’s not going to leave the Motherland. I put my phone down on my desk, frustrated, and just as I go to check my Player Search list again, there’s a knock at my door. It sounds cheeky. Can it be?
Long Shots 10 is obviously a mistake and Pace 9 seems a bit generous, but regardless, Matt Le Tissier is here! I can feel hot jealousy coming all the way from Old Trafford at the prospect of Gazza and Le God lining up in the same team. I only need Alan Shearer for a perfect hat-trick of Sir Alex Ferguson near misses. In some ways, you could say I’m a better manager for having gotten them together in the same side at last. I wouldn’t say that, of course, but other people might.
Le Tiss arrives mere moments before the tiring bus owned by Queens Park Rangers, who are back for yet another game against their perennial conquerors — this time, it’s in the Vans Trophy 2nd Round. Ian Holloway’s bizarre tactics last time we played them, which saw him put their top-scoring striker at centre-half for most of the game under no pressure whatsoever, means we’ve got a 100% win record against the Hoops since I took over at Nene Park, though the games are always close and testy, and we only ever win narrowly. QPR are at full strength, and assuming Ollie puts his players in their proper positions this time, I have to expect that this’ll be a close game.
To that end, I’ll put out the strongest team I can. We’re shorn of my injured players from the last outing, so in come “Braveheart” Eddie Forrest, Alexander Farnerud and Martin Andersson, while Marcel the Destroyer returns to DMC after serving his suspension. Matt Le Tissier takes his place on the bench between Mad Dog and Ronaldo — I can only imagine what they’d all have to talk about.
Have I ever mentioned how much I love Sir Les? If not, then please allow me to start right here.
The clock still reads zero as Marcel Mahouvé robs Karl Connolly and pumps a hopeful ball forward, and Sir Les — against his old club, no less — gathers it like a wounded baby bird, nurses it into his path, and then batters it past Brad Friedel to give us the lead. Batters the ball that is, not a baby bird. That metaphor escalated quickly. You understand what I mean.
His goal, with the very first action of the game, rattles QPR in a way that they never manage to recover from. On 17 minutes, Martin Andersson finds Javan in the box and he plants a header past Friedel for two, then Sir Les hits the bar before Javan scores a proper goal of the season contender. He collects the ball deep and goes on one of his trademark mazy runs, beating Forbes, Langley, Doudou and Bradshaw before drilling a low shot past the despairing Friedel to put us 3–0 up. The big American stopper is having a nightmare in nets, and his horrendous half is compounded right on the whistle as Alex Farnerud crosses for Sir Les to catch a sweet volley that flies past him for four.
The game basically won, I bring the lads in for half time and decide to see if Le God can make himself a cult hero. He comes in for Martin Andersson, who looks a bit fatigued, while Ronaldo replaces the tiring Sir Les. Unfortunately, the second half is a complete bust — we see the ball plenty but only make a couple of chances that Ronaldo puts off target, and with 20 minutes to go, QPR sweep home a consolation goal from a cross that substitute Kevin Cooper converts, and that’s how we finish. My players put their flip-flops and sunglasses on for the second half there, epitomised by Le Tissier, who pretty much couldn’t have done less to contribute, but oh well. We’re into the third round, and the Quadruple is still on!
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