Diamond Geezers, Episode 51: And Now, The Times Are Changin’
Er, lads.
I know. Let me explain.
Between finishing the last episode and starting this one, I chucked £200k at Millwall for Cherno Samba. I didn’t expect them to accept, because it was his value and he’s the hottest prospect in world football… but accept they did. Then, I offered him Backup terms, which he said he didn’t want, so I thought, fine. I’m not getting him this summer, but his contract expires in a year, so I’ll just nick him then. I offered a contract anyway, clicked Continue, and, well. You see what happened. Cherno F-cking Samba is moving into Cristiano Ronaldo’s shared house on Diamond Drive!
He’s absolute dross at the moment as you can clearly see, and nowhere near being good enough to bother my first team squad for a place, but he can get some games alongside CR7 in the stiffs until he’s ready to be unleashed on the Premier League. That 17 for Determination will come in handy. In the wake of Cherno’s arrival, I release a few of my more pointless youth players; Alan Palmer, David Bell, Conor Hagan and Delroy Gordon are all told they needn’t come back for training tomorrow and should try to find themselves new clubs. Northampton isn’t far.
Galvanised by my exciting new signing, I go heavy in the transfer market. A £1.3m offer, to be paid over 24 months, is submitted for Mikel Arteta. He’s been angling for a move to Nene Park for about a year, constantly mentioned in the press and linked with a move here, and he’s got a lot of potential, there’s no doubt about it — I just don’t feel like spending so much on a player who will probably be a squad guy, and serve only to bump perky upstart Jamie Davies down the pecking order. My offer is finally accepted, but he wants far too much money — and I pass. Sorry, Mikel. I realise you’ve already moved your parents to Irthlingborough, but I’m not giving you £12,500 a week to pay for their bungalow. I imagine they’ll enjoy the Wellingborough Museum café until you can get them back to Barcelona.
Then, we get two big pieces of news. Firstly, Meysam Javan wins his third individual award of the season as he’s voted as the Fans’ Player of the Year. No surprises there. But then, my board announce some pretty big infrastructural news for the second time in two seasons…
Now, this is lovely. It adds about 60% to the size of Nene Park and is a great set up for our move to Division One. However… Boavista have just bid £3.8m for Tó Madeira, and I’ve tried to match it.
God f — king dammit.
I’m not going to freak out like I did last season, when our state-of-the-art marble and gold-plated sports and entertainment complex was suddenly built on Nene Way and crippled me of all my funds, because we can only be a couple of weeks away from all the prize money we’re owed, which should boost the coffers back to near their previous level. However, it is frustrating that, in a single day, I’ve gone from £7.75m to £925k in my transfer kitty at the exact time where some important players are on the move. I’m sure this stadium expansion could have waited. Oh well — I suppose I might as well hunker down and open this lovely Swedish whisky that the Anderssons got me.
It doesn’t take long for me to resubmit that offer for Big Tó.
I’m very happy with my board’s expectations. They’re a realistic, generous and forgiving bunch. There’s no way we’ll be in a relegation battle this season if I’ve got anything to do with it; if we finish with less than promotion it’ll be a misstep, although I’m not expecting to blitz Division One like we did Two and Three.
Tó tells me that he has “no interest in discussing terms”, so I tell him not to speak, turn out the lights, and slip a £21,000 per week contract offer into his shorts before scurrying away into the night and weeping gently into my sleeve. Meanwhile, Tuesday morning arrives and Matt Le Tissier doesn’t turn up for training. It turns out he’s gone to Kilmarnock — that experiment didn’t work out, did it? — and so to celebrate, I let Dale Cockrill, my reserve left-back, go to Torquay United for free. There is, however, much sadder news to report. It’s time to say a very tearful goodbye to our Scottish Zeus. The God of Thunder. O Captain, my Captain. Richard Gough’s contract expires, and it’s time to part ways. Goodbye, my leader. You will never be forgotten.
And as one legend leaves, two potential wonderkids arrive — our top facilities plus youth academy produces its first talents worthy of joining my squad, as Roar Hanset tells me that some young men by the names of Joe Foster and Ben Dixon are coming up to my reserve team for my assessment. My initial view is that, for 18-year-olds, they look like they could be half decent. We’ll keep them on rolling deals and put them in a small room with Jamie Victory and Mike Duff to see how they develop.
Dixon is an especially timely addition since we’ve just lost Tarkan, though I will still have to pick up an established right-back to support Mike Duff and his monstrous calves; I have bids in for England and Sweden U21 internationals (and CM0102 legends) Simon Dogan and Mikael Dorsin.
Meanwhile, Sedan make a £550k bid for Assane N’Diaye that makes me sick, especially when it’s accepted. Simply because I hate Sedan now, I match their offer and submit a further contract to my distant love. I can’t bear the idea that he’ll go to such an inferior side, so I’ll block it however I can. Vindictive? Me? I can’t see it.
We finally reach 30th June, where contracts start to expire all over the world — including one that I’m particularly interested in. Martin Keown has had several offers from more “reputable” clubs, whatever that means, so I’m in the market for others — and this man has been released on a free transfer by Lazio. I offer him a one-year contract and cross every available digit.
And with that, it’s July 1st. Open season begins — and we welcome a couple of fresh talents to bolster and develop in my reserves. I do love a promising youngster. Enjoy training with Ronaldo, Rhys Weston and Fabio Gatti!
And since it’s a bit of a wild day, it should come as no surprise that my news cycle then goes bananas. Firstly, Martin Keown rejects five lesser clubs and agrees to sign for us — but I delay the transfer for a week to see how things go with my other bids. I like having all my options on the table. Plus, Assane N’Diaye accepts my offer and we go back to DWP to beg and cry for a work permit. I’ll get down on my knees and pray or whatever else it takes to get this lad through the door.
However, neither of those pieces of news are the main thing that happens today. There is a huge shock waiting for me when I arrive at training on this fateful July morning, one which will reverberate around Irthlingborough for weeks and months to come.
Paul Gascoigne, Gazza, our Geordie Trickster and Irthlingborough’s favourite son, has accepted a full-time offer from the Peterborough & District Angling Association. I feel bereft. He had such a fantastic season, and based on his stats, I thought I’d get another swashbuckling 12 months out of him before he finally hung his boots up; however, I suppose a season plagued by injuries, plus the lure of the River Nene’s high proportion of heavy carp and pike, has caused him to decide that enough is enough. We wish Gazza well, and I fully expect that we’ll see him amongst the Rushden Ultras in the Peter De Banke Terrace from time to time, maybe when the weather is really bad. And with that, all of a sudden, I’m in the market for a new centrepiece to decorate my footballing buffet.
Or am I? There is the small matter of considering a formation change. We’ve seen unprecedented success with my 4–1–3–2, but with the embarrassment of striking options at the club — especially looking at McVeigh, Ronaldo, Renner and Samba in my reserves — there is an argument that we should switch to two in midfield and three up front in a 4–1–2–3. It’s definitely a thought. I resolve to test it out in our traditional pre-season tour of Wales and see how far it gets us, though in the meantime, I’m going back for Andres D’Alessandro, Mikel Arteta and Frank Lampard.
I also take a look at Mark Kerr, who’s obviously the best central midfielder in world football, but he’s valued at £4.2m by Birmingham with a £9.5m release fee, so I don’t have a lot of hope. I chuck his value at them anyway, just in case they blink. I also submit bids for Tonton Zola Moukoko, Labinot Harbuzi, Tobias Hysén, Kim Källström and Kennedy Bakircioglü, because isn’t that what we’re all here for, after all? It would be nice if N’Diaye could just get his work permit, then all this would be moot. I dispatch Susan to send some cuddly toys to the DWP in a bid to woo them into stamping his forms incorrectly.
Some of my bids are accepted, specifically for Simon Dogan (from earlier), Arteta and Källström. The Swede rejects me out of hand, which isn’t a surprise, and I am just stunned by the weekly wages and signing on fees demanded by Dogan and Arteta. Considering the fact that I’m not even sure how often they’ll play, I tell them both to sod off; Arteta is especially frustrating, since he could establish himself as my first-choice CM with a bit of application, but £300k as a signing on fee? It’s just so much money, and I need assurances that he’s actually worth it. I check the Spain U21 side and notice that he’s one of the “star” players in there, even ahead of Joaquín, José Antonia Reyes, Fernando Torres, David Villa and Pepe Reina… so maybe I’m being a bit hasty. I need more time to consider. There’s still an Andres D’Alessandro bid active, after all.
Ironically, just as I’m looking for a centre-mid, I let one go. This one was worth releasing, though — I was getting £500k offers from the Motherland, and I really didn’t want him to be the cornerstone of my energetic side. Auf wiedersehen, pet. May your thunderbastard braces never be forgotten.
Out with the old, and in with the… old. But still new, and swarthy. Welcome to Irthlingborough, my latest global megastar: Fernando Couto!
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