Diamond Geezers, Episode 44: The Mwaruwari Experience
“Tó Madeira On The Rise!” blare the February headlines as I slump down at my desk on another chilly Sunday morning. That’s right, it’s the weekend — there’s no time to rest in the transfer market, especially when the papers are publicly trumpeting players I want to sign. And, although I’ve almost forgotten what my girlfriend is called, there’s one name I’ll never forget: that of Madeira, for whom I submit a straight-up £2.5m bid to Braga. I’ve had enough messing around now. I want my man.
In other transfer news, I also make exactly the same bid for Miroslav Klose since his move to Leverkusen seems to be stalling, plus my courting of Mattias Nylund is over after he chooses the slums of London over the grandeur of Irthlingborough and moves to West Ham for £120k. Are the night clubs of Kettering not good enough for these young men? Kids today.
Braga reject my bid for Tó, so I go back with a ridiculous £6m offer, most of which will be paid after ten international caps. They immediately reject that too. I’m frustrated, but a quick Continue tells me that Benjani has had his work permit approved by the DWP, so perhaps we can save ourselves some money. Then again, he doesn’t exactly ingratiate himself to me or the fans with his opening gambit as he swanks through the revolving door at Nene Park…
Sure he will soon move to a bigger club? I guess that’s what you have to expect from a man who wears sunglasses indoors.
My new least-favourite Zimbabwean is obviously going to be a bit of a handful, but if he can hit the ground running with some goals, all will be forgiven — and he can get cracking right away against Brentford in the Vans Trophy South Quarter Final. We’ve beaten my beloved Bees more than anyone else, it feels like — we played them twice last season despite being in a different division, and this season we’re in the same league and still managing to draw them in the cups. The last time we played, we only just managed a 2–2 draw, and considering they are at full strength and we’ve got injuries all over the place, I do have some worries before this one. Brandon is back, so he takes his place in midfield, but the rest of my walking wounded will sit out, leaving spots on the bench for McKinlay, Davies and Le Tissier in the continued absence of Gazza, Andersson and Javan. How will Sir Les approach a partnership with the maverick Mwaruwari?
I tell you what, if he’s going to be this kind of maverick, I reckon we’ll be able to deal with it. With just four minutes on the clock, Jamie Victory runs up and swings over a corner, and Benjani rises above his marker to thunder home his inevitable debut goal for the mighty Diamonds — and it only takes six more minutes for him to add his second. Jamie Victory is involved again, getting on the end of a Costacurta long forward pass and nodding down for Benjani, who turns on the edge of the area and hits a stinging drive past Matt Clarke in the Brentford goal. I am buoyed by the second impression of my temperamental new striker, and although Brentford are very much in the game and pull a goal back through Kevin O’Connor in the 13th minute, the rest of my players raise their game to Benjani’s level and continue plundering the Brentford net — first Chris Brandon follows in a Byron Bubb long range effort and pokes home his seventh goal of the season, and then, just before half time, Mahouvé finds Duff on the right, and he plants a cross right onto the head of Sir Les, who pretty much lets it ricochet off his face and into the back of the net for 4–1 at the break. What a breathtaking half.
I see no need to change anything, so I send the lads back out, and on the hour mark — after Sir Les sees a header clip off the top of the bar — Benjani rises yet again to meet a Mahouvé cross, and collects a tremendous debut hat-trick. Job done, and game over, I make all three subs to protect my best performers, including bringing Mad Dog in for Mahouvé — and by this point Brentford are so abject that even my old timer gets in on the act, breaking through midfield and arriving on the end of a Byron Bubb cross to prod home from close range for his first goal of the season. It’s a wonderful scoreline and a virtuoso performance from Benjani. He can stay… for now.
And with that, we’ve set a new record! Our home attendance of 2,255 is the lowest ever in the history of Nene Park. I know how you feel, fellow Irthlingboroughians. I’m sick of the sight of Brentford too.
In other news, we’ll play away at Luton Town in the Vans Trophy South Semi Final right after our following game against Rochdale, and with our fixture schedule now packed, there’s not even time to shower or change before it’s all aboard Chugger to ruin his new upholstery on the long drive to Spotland. Dale are 15th in Division Two and not making that much of an impression, it has to be said; they’d probably be in deeper trouble if it wasn’t for waspish striker Paul Connor, a man who’s been a regular thorn in my side throughout this series so far. His 14 league goals this season means he’s their main goal threat, so I set about making plans to ensure we don’t get stung.
With an eye on my forthcoming cup game, and considering the league to be pretty sewn up, it’s all change for us. My two designated “foreign” players — Mahouvé and Benjani — both start, just to keep their percentages up, but otherwise, only Pinheiro and Duff retain their places from Brentford. In come Gough, Forrest, Kalvenes, Farnerud, Davies, Pflipsen and Møller. I whisper to the Great Dane to keep Benjani in check; he fires a single, stoic nod back at me. I love that man.
We start very well, with Davies and Duff combining regularly to create a few testers for Neil Edwards in the Rochdale goal, courtesy of Benjani, who despite his insistence that he’s above playing for us, at least seems intent on proving it. However, when our goal comes, it’s not Benjani who opens the scoring. It’s an old favourite.
Davies throws in for Duff, who sets off on a trademark run down the right flank — he pauses, looks up, whips a deadly cross into the area from deep, and who’s on the end of it? The Great Dane, Peter Møller, who flies through the sky like a steak on a javelin and plunders our first goal of the day. It sets up a mad seven minutes where another three goals go in — and luckily, two of them are ours. First, Benjani collects a Davies pass and uses all 20 of his Long Shots to clatter home a hellstrike from the edge of the area, and a minute later, Davies puts a free kick into the box and Marcel Mahouvé climbs over Mitch Ward to head home for 3–0. It’s a great start, but just as I allow my sphincter to relax, Craig Disley collects the ball from kick off, jinks past Kalvenes, and hits a low drive that slips past Pinheiro to reduce the deficit. It’s a blow, but it’s not the end, as just before half time Benjani collects another Jamie Davies pass 20 yards out and unleashes a netbuster that leaves the score 4–1 at the break.
It’s difficult to justify changing anything when your players are spanking the opposition raw, so I summon up all my tactical nous and leave the team exactly as they are — and three minutes into the second half, my careful planning works out perfectly as Møller heads home a Pflipsen cross for 5–1. Even though Dale are having their chances, with Paul Connor and Hugo Pinheiro having their own 1v1 battle, my instruction for Marcel to do a standard Destroyer job on Craig Disley has neutered Rochdale’s creativity in midfield, and as a result, we are now broadly rampant. The game looks over, so I make my subs — Benjani comes off for Sir Les, then Farnerud and Mahouvé make way for Bubb and Mad Dog — and within minutes, Sir Les has collected a Møller pass, waits for support, waits some more, then decides he doesn’t need any and curls a high shot past Edwards for six. There’s just about time right at the end for Møller to collapse in a heap under the faintest touch from Adam Holbrook in the box, our superb, eagle-eyed referee points to the spot, and Davies rattles home for what has turned out to be an evisceration of Rochdale. Sorry, Spotland fans — your boys just got one hell of a beating.
13 goals in our last two games, with five for Benjani, combined with four wins on the bounce is a pretty stunning return to form after our two consecutive defeats to Swansea and West Brom. Swansea, at least, are getting their come-uppance for daring to upset the Peter De Banke Terrace as Mamady Sidibe acts the fool and is punished accordingly.
I take a moment to chuckle at seeing our conquerors implode, but the CM gods won’t have that, and they slap me directly across the mouth with Raio Piiroja’s work permit application — he won’t be coming to Nene Park after all. Not yet, anyway. Then, moments later, Morten Knutsen is back to complain about training again. Jesus Henry Christ, can I just have a moment of schadenfreude to myself? I’m not even trying to retrain Knutsen any more, he’s just in general Skills training, so with no idea what problem he can possibly have, I shove him into Roar’s Tactical class instead and make plans to get rid of him at the earliest opportunity.
Meanwhile, centre-half is still a concern. Eddie Forrest hasn’t impressed so far with an average rating of 6.83 from his first eight games, and with Gough and Costacurta eyeing the glue factory and Teddy Lucic pushing 30 himself, I resolve to spend a big chunk of my remaining wad on a fancy young centre-half. Some sort of no-nonsense, shit-kicking, wide-pocketed animal who can do chest-bumps with Mahouvé after each fresh kill. My scouts are dispatched to find me such a man, who I suspect might end up being Joleon Lescott, and in the meantime, we’re back on the short, familiar road to Luton.
The Hatters are languishing at the bottom of the second division, and we’ve already played and beaten them twice this season — though they were only narrow 1–0 and 2–1 wins. They always seem to turn up against us, and getting to the latter stages of the Vans Trophy obviously means they’re no mugs. However, considering that we’re only a week away from Manchester United in the League Cup Semi Final, second leg, I’m resting mostly everyone here.
As such, it’s a very similar team to last time out, with a couple of small changes — Mustafa gets a run at right back in place of Mike Duff, and I’ve decided to gamble that the combined egos of Le Tissier and Benjani up front might open up a black hole that somehow sucks us to victory. Let it never be said that I’m governed by logic or reason.
It’s an unbelievably low-quality game that we just about shade, but this is going to be a very short match report because, quite honestly, very little of note happens. After a tepid first half of few chances, and a second half that sees perennial thorn-in-my-side Jonathan Gould keep out stinging efforts from Bubb, Le Tissier, Pflipsen, Davies and Benjani, the 90 minutes come to an end with neither team having been able to break the deadlock. It’s 0–0 at full time — and so, to extra time we go.
It simply flashes by — we only manage one further shot on target through Sir Les, on as a sub, that Gould fields, and before I know it, the game has gone to penalties. It’s my first ever shootout as Rushden boss, but knowing it was a possibility, I’ve made tactical subs, withdrawing Mustafa for Victory and Bubb for Gough, plus left Le Tiss on the pitch (Set Pieces 20) despite him not being brilliant during the game. Gould is on a 9 and is already man of the match, so I have great concern going in. I can only pray my boys keep the ball on target, and that Hugo can be the PinHero we need, if not the one we deserve.
The mood is tense inside Kenilworth Road as the players take their positions on the halfway line. Gould looks enormous in the Luton goal. Bubb steps up first, and tucks his pen away. If there was anyone in my squad I would have bet my studio flat on scoring, it would have been him. Michael Clegg does the same for Luton, before Victory and Johnson also both tuck their pens away. Who’s going to be the one to crack first?
Up steps Matt Le Tissier. He’s been the very embodiment of bang average ever since he arrived. He stands over the ball in his ill-fitting shorts and no shinpads. I can’t look.
GOAL! I collapse into a puddle — I thought that might be our undoing. I’m so beside myself that I almost forget to watch Kevin Nicholls as he steps up for Luton… and smashes his penalty over the bar!! Advantage Diamonds — we just need to stay calm. Just put them on target, boys. Please.
Sir Les obviously scores, and so does Steve Brown. The fate of our Vans Trophy South Final place is in the hands of… Karheinz Pflipsen. The man who’s been unhappy since the start of the season because he isn’t getting enough game time. This is who I’ve chosen to take my deciding penalty?! My head is already in my hands as Karlie steps up, gathers himself, runs up to the ball…
IT’S ALL OVER! RUSHDEN WIN! Man, I hate penalty shootouts, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that we’ve converted every single spot-kick, and you can’t ask for more than that. At the most crucial moment, my players have shown their mettle. Well played, lads. You deserve it.
Wycombe Wanderers come through the other south semi-final against Stevenage in extra time to set up the Vans Trophy South Final — but first, we’ll welcome the Chairboys to Irthlingborough in the league for our final warm-up match before Manchester United…
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