Diamond Geezers, Episode 94: The Final Countdown
For those of you that haven’t been following on Twitter, sadly this will be the last episode of Diamond Geezers. I had some catastrophic laptop failure that has wiped all my save games, writing and screenshots — these are all I had backed up to my Google Drive. It at least takes us to the end of the season, which is something, but stay tuned: another adventure will start very soon.
We have really wet the bed here. Just a few short months ago, we were riding high in the Premier League, nine points off the top and cruising in second place, streets ahead of Middlesbrough and Arsenal.
Now, after a disgusting run of form that has seen us slide down to third place, we have merely the slenderest of leads over Chelsea, who are just a point behind us. The harsh reality is that, despite some high points and some fantastic new signings to bolster my struggling squad, we’ve only won three games since the turn of the new year, and we’ve played 14. To say that 2005 has been my Annus Horribilis so far is the understatement of the century.
There are now just six games between us and the end of the season, where we should claim a top-four spot and glorious entry into the Champions League. It’s still not impossible that we could catch Middlesbrough, who are seven points ahead of us in second, but have a horrendous run-in that sees them play Manchester United next, then Wolves, Spurs, Leicester and Chelsea away, with Birmingham at home to complete the set. There are lots of losable games for them in there. However, on the other hand, we’ve got Chelsea and Arsenal in Chugger’s loose rear-view mirror, and there’s also every chance we could drop out of the top four altogether if we aren’t extremely careful. Our run-in isn’t as bad, but I’m still not looking forward to it.
At the very least, four of our games are at Nene Park, with only Leeds away next and then a trip to the Midlands on the penultimate day of the season, but we still do have to play Wolves, bloody bastard Bolton, Arsenal, and then, on the final day that everything could come down to, we have to welcome our new arch-rivals Fulham to Irthlingborough. Villa and Fulham are both still in danger of getting relegated, so they will be fighting and scrapping for their lives in games we will probably really need to win. I’m clenched so hard that I haven’t been to the toilet for nine days.
Hopefully both my team and I can hold it together long enough to see off Leeds United, who are chasing the European places themselves. Sixth in the table but ten points behind us, it’s been a tumultuous season at Elland Road — not like them at all. They’ve lost 14 games out of the 32 they’ve played so far, which is incredible when you consider the players they’ve got in their squad, but there have been waves of unhappiness washing over them since the opening day. They pulled it together for a while, but looking at their recent results, they’re having a similar 2005 to us; occasional wins punching through a malaise of disappointing draws and desperate defeats. They just lost 2–0 to Sunderland away, in the process laying down a performance that belongs in the relegation zone, not the UEFA Cup places. We aren’t exactly on fire right now either, but Leeds’ tribulations at least give me some encouragement.
I’m going to persist with the two-DMC formation we’ve been playing recently, because Paulo Sousa’s form has been fantastic ever since he came into the side to partner Marcel Mahouvé. Frank Lampard, by contrast, has been disappointing, so he drops out today to make way for Deco. He lines up alongside the rejuvenated Tobias Hysén, Papoutsis replaces the erratic Titus Bramble — who knew — and Karadas will continue to bulldoze opposing centre-halves out of the way to clear a path for Fernando Torres to get the goals. God, I really hope this works.
The first half is all us, and I can’t tell you how relieved I am that we don’t just get battered around in the opening stages. I’ve got PTSD from our recent run of form and I wince every time Leeds get the ball, but they don’t actually have it that often — we do. However, as has been the problem all season, our profligacy threatens to tear us down. We reach the half with four shots on goal, but all miss the target — though Lucio clears off the line from a Torres header in what should go down as one, but we all know the stats aren’t to be completely trusted. However, that doesn’t disguise the fact that Karadas, Torres and Sousa can’t even test Robinson from promising positions, while Viduka and Keane force Chiotis to scramble around his goal three times, which thankfully he manages, and we reach the end of a very nervous first half at 0–0.
I make no changes at the break, and the second half is a similar story for the first 20 minutes. Rio Ferdinand is having a blinder against Torres and is managing to keep him relatively under wraps, but even he can’t stop the Spaniard from hitting the post and then finally fizzing a shot that Robinson has to tip wide. He’s been such a breath of fresh air for my struggling side, but we need him to start scoring — and on 65 minutes, frustrated, I replace the ineffective Karadas and Sousa with Bubb and Javan, and move to a more aggressive formation that has two AMCs behind my strikers.
Kewell strikes from the edge of the box but Dion saves and holds onto the ball. He bowls out to Mike Duff on the right, he squares for Papoutsis, and the Greek finds Marcel Mahouvé just ahead of him. He passes to Byron Bubb, fresh and tricky in the middle, and he dances towards the Leeds penalty box. He looks up, sees Hysén’s run into the box, and centres for the Swede — the ball misses him, but Torres has gotten away from Ferdinand! It drops to Torres! Shoots! YES! GOAL! FERNANDO TORRES! It’s 1–0 Diamonds!! OFFSIDE?! WHAT THE HOLY FUCK! HOW MANY GOALS ARE WE GOING TO LOSE TO OFFSIDES BEFORE YOU’RE HAPPY, DAD?
I’m not sure where that came from exactly but to disguise my obvious childhood trauma I begin raging at the fourth official in my technical area as the players surround Mark Halsley, who blows his whistle to restart the game. Out of position, my players watch Paul Robinson launch the free-kick 90 yards to Charlie Miller on the right of the Leeds midfield. Barker has been caught up the pitch, Miller makes tracks to the byline, cuts the ball back across the area, Harry Kewell touches it on, and Robbie Keane smashes the ball high past Chiotis to give Leeds the 1–0 lead that we should have had just a minute ago. We’ve been completely sucker punched, on the counter attack, out of position, and that’s it. It’s all over. We’ve lost yet again. I cannot, cannot believe this.
Mercifully, Newcastle hold Chelsea to a draw, which means we remain above them — but only on goal difference now. Arsenal are just two points back in fifth, and we’ve still got to play them in this run in. Oh god. This is almost too much for me.
Before I know it, Wolves arrive at Nene Park for the first of three consecutive home games. We absolutely have to win this one, so I decide to go hard: we’re back to the 4–1–3–2, with Lampard coming in for Sousa and my full-backs given the license to roam forward more than usual. I’m also putting Javan up front with Torres because we need goals, and for all his hard work and industry, they sure aren’t coming from Azar Karadas at the moment.
Wolves are struggling down at the bottom of the league and on any other day, I’d expect them to be there for the taking, but not any more. Nothing is certain. Life is pain.
Five minutes in, Javan is forced off injured. I lament his departure, but decide not to put Karadas on in his place: instead, I introduce Bubb, and go 4–1–2–2–1, with Lampard and Byron in CM and Hysén and Deco supporting Torres in AMC. Three minutes later, Torres is rampaging towards the Wolves penalty area in search of the lead we so desperately want — and David Unsworth, generous sort that he is, hacks the Spaniard into next week and gets himself a straight red card! Eight minutes on the clock, we’re a striker down but a man up against 18th-placed Wolves. The gods are finally smiling on us. Surely, surely, we must win this game now.
Thankfully, we do. Ten minutes later, Deco volleys us into the lead to notch his first goal for the mighty Diamonds, and even though I’m upset to see Wolves continue to get forward, Chiotis fields everything they’ve got, and we reach the break with a slender but significant one-goal advantage.
Lampard isn’t playing well yet again, stuck on a 6 at half-time, but I can’t just sub people every time they start slowly, otherwise the whole team would need replacing every 45 minutes. I instead leave them as they are, and Lamps rewards me immediately: from kick off, he glides through midfield, past Roussel, and floats a ball into the penalty area for Tobias Hysén to rise and head past Nikos Michopoulous for 2–0, and surely game over. We spend the next 25 minutes testing the Wolves defence, which holds firm, and on 69 (hehe) minutes I replace Torres with Karadas, if only to keep my new superstar safe for the rest of our run in. And, with just over ten minutes left, Chris Barker breaks down the left flank and crosses for Byron Bubb, the Ultras’ favourite son after Jamie Davies, to slam a high shot home for 3–0 and the end of this game. Thank the sweet lord baby Jesus for that.
We face an agonising wait for results around us to come in, as Man Utd, Middlesbrough and Arsenal are all in the final stages of the Champions League and Chelsea are fighting on in the semi-finals of the UEFA Cup. I’m delighted that they all have extra games to battle through on the continent in this already packed run-in: Chelsea go down to Lazio in a game that Mario Stanic leaves early with an injury that’ll put him out for two weeks, while Middlesbrough overcome Arsenal to make the semis of the Champions League along with Manchester United, who they’ll play there after the Red Devils overturned a 2–0 first-leg defeat to Roma with a 4–1 battering at Old Trafford. See? It happens to the best of them.
My attention turns entirely to our next game against Sam Allardyce and his band of utter bastards from Bolton. I’m extremely happy to see that their only decent goalkeeper, Thomas Sørensen, was injured in their previous game and is out for two weeks, and they only have one other goalkeeper available in their squad: 23-year-old James Evans, a former youth keeper who has even worse ball-grabbing attributes than Bernard Diomède. As ever, I look forward to watching him have the game of his life against us today in a completely undeserved away victory.
An injury to Karadas in midweek coupled with Javan’s crocking that will shelve him for a fortnight means I have a decision to make, and I make it: we’re staying with that 4–1–2–2–1 that led us to three goals and an excellent team performance against Wolves. Considering that we’re flush with midfielders and we only actually have one decent striker at the moment, it makes sense to play this way. Hysén and Deco should have new leases of life in their natural position, while taking the pressure off Lampard and letting him dictate the game from the centre alongside the industry, work-rate and late box arrivals of Byron Bubb. Carragher is suspended, so Titus Bramble and Kostas Papoutsis will form the most accident-prone central defensive partnership the home fans have ever seen. I’m excited about our attacking threat, but terrified of my awful defenders. This should be a laugh. I’m going to have some tequila if that’s okay with all of you.
Bolton start “cautiously”, according to the commentary, and it plays right into the hands of my new attacking formation. Torres first shoots off-target in the third minute, then tests the reflexes of Evans in the Bolton goal — naturally, they’re finely-tuned and up to scratch. Chris Barker then advances down the left, but is forced to back-track and pass inside to Papoutsis. I’m watching through my fingers as he looks up to play a long pass forward, under pressure from Huckerby — but rather than slash it straight to the Bolton striker, he hits a pinpoint long ball into the path of Byron Bubb, who takes a touch, gets into the box — and is taken out by Henrik Pedersen! What he’s doing back there I’ll never know, but referee Tommy Scheers points to the spot!
Obviously, I still haven’t updated my penalty takers despite repeated warnings — but it’s okay this time. Byron Bubb, the Terminator and our most reliable spot-kicker over the years, places the ball down himself. He steadies himself for the run up, and shoots…
Goal Diamonds!! Evans is sent the wrong way, and with 13 minutes gone, your boys are into a vital early lead!
Freddie Risp, our former favourite and now playing the role of double-agent, gets himself booked a minute after the penalty goes in for trying to swap shirts with Deco a little earlier than tradition normally suggests, but the Brazilian/Portuguese I’m not really sure whips the dead ball straight into the wall and Richard Dunne clears. After that, the game starts to get a little bad tempered. We get four consecutive bookings for Mahouvé, who tries to amputate various sections of Steven Nicholas, then Lampard, who squares up to Sylvain Legwinski, followed by Papoutsis and Barker for stupid little infringements around our box. I love the passion, but not the bombs that Nicholas is allowed to rain into our box from the resulting free kicks — however, Chiotis does what he does best, and keeps Bolton at bay until the relief of the half-time whistle.
The second half, in a shocking and unpredictable twist, is the James Evans show. The stand-in Bolton keeper — Agility 2 — displays cat-like reflexes not seen since the days of Sepp Maier, repelling a half-volley from Tobias Hysén, a long-range drive from Frank Lampard, and two stinging close range shots from Fernando Torres, one of which he gets up to smother at the second attempt. It’s yet another impossible display from an otherwise dreadful stand-in goalkeeper, who somehow finishes the game on a 7 despite genuinely keeping us at bay throughout the second half — but the good news at the other end is that despite Sibusimo Zuma’s best efforts, Bolton can’t penetrate our big stopper either. Dionisis Chiotis, despite not having much to do for most of the afternoon, does make four remarkable saves from the South African to keep us in business, and after lots of toiling and shouting that would get me banned from every church in the country, we eventually scrape through with the win we need. 1–0 to the mighty Diamonds, with three games to go. I disappear down the tunnel and head to the nearest Teletext-enabled TV…
Unbelievably, Man Utd have gone down 1–0 to Crystal Palace for the second time this season, with the super Eagles completing a remarkable double over the champions-elect — but our nearest rivals still haven’t played. They’ve been given an extra day off because of their European commitments, so I have an agonising wait until tomorrow to see how things shake out…
…and when I do, there are absolute scenes.
Both of our nearest rivals have eaten it in games they really should be winning. Arsenal get done 2–0 at home against Sunderland, while our nemeses at Fulham actually do us a favour and shoot down Chelsea at Craven Cottage — with a 90th minute Leo Roget winner, no less. Phew — what an incredible afternoon it’s been for us, and we haven’t even gone anywhere!!
The following day, Middlesbrough play Wolves… and can only scrape to a 0–0 draw at Molineux. We’ve played a game more, but suddenly, we’re in a really good place. Third place is looking secure, and Boro are still catchable if they lose that extra game. We’ve just got to keep winning. Who have we got next? Ah… it’s Arsenal at Nene Park.
Shit.
This is it. Just three games left between us and our final position in this club’s first ever tilt at the Premier League. Arsenal, Aston Villa and Fulham stand between us and possibly being seeded for the Champions League group stage, or possibly crashing out of the top four altogether. No matter what, we can’t lose sight of how fantastic we’ve done, no matter where we finish. Little Rushden and Diamonds have come all the way from the very lowest professional division in English football, all the way to… well, not quite the summit, but we’ve made it to base camp, at least.
There’s a small international gap before we play Arsenal, and while most of my international players are putting in sub-par performances for their countries, one of my newest megastars just can’t stay out of the action.
He might have only scored twice in seven games since arriving from Atletico Madrid, but the importance of Fernando Torres’ contributions to our cause cannot be understated. He’s not averaging 7.43 for nothing: his stats don’t reflect the utter chaos he causes for opposing defences, creating panic, poor decision making, and winning free-kicks, penalties, and red cards. He’s been a menace. The goals will come.
Hopefully, they’ll come in our next encounter, with Arsenal at Nene Park. Thanks to recent results, this game isn’t an absolute must-win any more, which is great for my blood pressure at the very least. The Gunners only have one win in their last seven games, in fact, and have lost five of those. Much like everyone in the league except for Manchester United, it’s been anything but smooth sailing at Highbury — and I hope that dragging them out of London for a good kicking in Northamptonshire will do further damage to their top four aspirations.
For our part, I’m keeping things simple and retaining exactly the same side that slapped Bolton around in our last game. Carragher is still suspended, Javan is injured, so I don’t see any reason to change anything. Hopefully, El Niño can bring his Spain form back with him to Nene Park this afternoon, and Marcel Mahouvé vs Patrick Vieira doesn’t cause a shockwave that reduces our freshly-upgraded stadium to rubble. Come on boys. Let’s get em.
Arsenal start the game defensively to their peril. Barker picks the ball up with the first action of the game and chips right to Mahouvé. He switches the play to Duff, who makes some inroads down the right and returns the ball to Mahouvé. Marcel takes a touch and looks up, spots a run from Byron Bubb, and lofts the ball ahead of him — there’s still a lot to do, but Bubb turns past Ray Parlour, dribbles towards goal, and hits shot with the outside of his foot!! OH MY GOD! IT’S A WONDER GOAL FROM BYRON BUBB! IT’S 1–0 DIAMONDS, IN JUST THE FOURTH MINUTE OF THE GAME!!
What a start! I can hardly believe my eyes as Francis Jeffers gets booked for pulling Deco’s shirt and the Duff forces Dida to save from a header soon after — Arsenal are rattled here, seriously rattled. Fernando Torres then takes centre stage, hitting a dipping volley that Dida pushes over the bar, Barker takes the corner, Bubb flicks it on, and Torres cracks another volley that Dida blocks from close range!
It’s amazing that Torres hasn’t scored here, yet again — and just as we look like we’re going to run away with this game, Arsenal strike. Parlour makes amends for his mistake by skipping past Mahouvé of all people and centring the ball for the razor-sharp Thierry Henry to arrive and half-volley past Chiotis to redress the balance. Against the run of play, certainly, but you can’t stop world-class players, and Henry has pegged us back almost single-handedly.
It’s a blow, but my players deserve enormous credit: their heads don’t drop, and they keep going, pushing to get their lead back. Every Arsenal attack is snuffed out by Mahouvé and Bramble, and eventually, we get back to their third once more: Barker switches the ball to Duff, who knocks down for Frank Lampard. He passes forward to Hysén in the box, who lifts the ball across the area towards Fernando Torres — TORRES! GOOOAAALLLL DIAMONDS!! Fernando Torres finally gets his third goal of the season, and we’re back into the lead!!
I swap the hopeless Papoutsis for Philippe Mexès at half time to try to keep up with Thierry Henry, and the second half starts with an Arsenal flurry. Chiotis saves from Henry early on, then Freddie Ljungberg, on as a sub, wins a header from a Parlour cross that Chiotis has to tip over the bar. He then hits a piledriver from the edge of the area that Chiotis saves and holds — but after that, my reshuffled defence take control and snuff Arsenal almost entirely out of the game. We push forward, and right on the hour mark, Bramble launches the ball into the area and Torres meets it! Torres scores! NO!! Yet another goal ruled out for offside against Deco! DECO! STAY ONSIDE, YOU CRETIN!
However, the injustice against him doesn’t keep El Niño down. He has a header saved by Dida, then is robbed by Lauren just as he’s about to bury the follow up. Shortly afterwards, he’s tracked by the entire Arsenal defence as he tears through the middle of them on the way to shooting just off target, but the commentary notes that he was “surrounded” by players, so no surprises there. He’s then tripped by Ayala as he moves towards goal, and a free-kick is awarded. Mike Duff takes it, swings a flat cross into the box — Torres rises highest!! TORRES! GOAL DIAMONDS! FERNANDO TORRES SCORES AGAIN! An unbelievable performance from our new wonderkid, and it’s 3–1 Rushden with only a minute left!!
That minute goes by in a flash, and before we know it, we’ve done it — we’ve beaten Arsenal! Unbelievable Jeff!
Boro win 2–1 at White Hart Lane in a result that’ll make it very tough for us to catch them now unless a miracle happens, and Manchester United are officially Premier League champions for the seventh consecutive season after their crushing 4–1 win against Leicester. You know what, congratulations. Enjoy it while you can.
Man Utd and Middlesbrough play out a 2–2 draw in the first leg of their Champions League Semi Final first leg, while Chelsea and Arsenal both win their extra games to keep the pressure on us. Then, it’s time for the following week’s round of games. We’re playing Villa tomorrow, but there’s a full Saturday schedule before us… and I’m hovering over Teletext with wide eyes and an open bottle of whisky just an arm’s length away.
And it turns out to be happy whisky, as some absolutely stunning scores come in: Crewe somehow dick Chelsea 5–2 in one of the most unlikely results since they did the same thing to Liverpool a few months ago, Birmingham hold Boro to a 1–1 draw at the Riverside, and Arsenal can’t beat Leeds. It’s a brilliant afternoon for us, and the upshot of all that is that the Premier League table now looks like this:
Unless something incredible happens in the final round of games, we surely only need a point from our last two to secure third place, and guarantee Champions League football next season. Plus, if you say it quietly, a win in both games could mean we pinch second place from Boro right at the death, because even though they’re four points ahead of us right now, they’ve got Leicester away next, then Chelsea as their last game of the season — at Stamford Bridge.
It’s a compelling narrative alright, but once you strip all of that away, there’s one simple thing we must focus on: a win at Villa Park. Alex McLeish’s side are a solid mid-table Premier League team with nothing left to play for this season, so I send him a Scottish-themed gift basket in the run up to the game that contains a couple of bits of shortbread, unwrapped, and then seven bottles of Bell’s that I had down the back of the sofa in my office. With any luck, he’ll work them into his training routines in the build-up to tomorrow’s game.
We will continue almost exactly as we are. I’m a big fan of this new formation and it seems to be working for us, even though the scorelines aren’t particularly impressive, the performances are. We destroyed both Derby and Arsenal with this tactic, and even though we only scored two goals in those games, we could have had double figures easily. Carragher is unavailable today, so I bring Kostas Papoutsis into my first team alongside Titus Bramble — my lack of trust in Mexès to perform consistently is growing, and while the same can be said of the Greek, he does at least end people occasionally. So as it is, my centre-halves are very suspect once again, but the rest of my team looks good. Some defenders seem like a good idea for reinforcements in the summer.
The first half is very even, and it’s reflected in the scoreline at the break. Juan Pablos Sorín and Angel combine for the latter to head the home side into the lead, but we respond with the next action of the game through, you guessed it, Fernando Torres, who collects a Mike Duff pass into the box, takes a touch, and drills a low shot past Michael Oakes to level it up. As usual, Torres is a nightmare for the Villa defence, but in very unusual news, Marcel Mahouvé ends the half on a 5, which is something I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. I realise I haven’t asked him to man-mark anyone, so assuming he’s just confused, I wind him up and point him at Lee Clark for the start of the second half.
On the hour mark, nothing has changed — so I decide to act. Praying that he doesn’t try to strangle me on the way past, I pull Mahouvé out for Paulo Sousa, while Mexès replaces the disappointing Bramble and Deco is replaced by Farnerud, though I don’t even think Deco was on the pitch, such was his anonymity. Sousa immediately creates a nice triangle in the middle with Bubb and Lampard, who sprays a pass left to Chris Barker. He delivers the ball to the near post, where Alex Farnerud has escaped the Villa defence — he backheels across the area first time! Torres spots the pass! TORRES!! GOAL!! FERNANDO TORRES AGAIN! His second strike of the day, and we’re in front for the first time!
Moments later, Torres is at it again, jinking past Gareth Barry and smashing a fierce drive that Michael Oakes saves in style, then as the game winds down, he lines up a shot for Byron Bubb to hit straight into the bread basket of the Villa goalkeeper. Lampard then hits a shot wide, Torres drives over the bar, and before you know it, we’ve got another famous win — and all the plaudits have to go to Fernando Torres. He’s absolutely deadly right now, a sniper in the box, and his brace has guaranteed us a top-four place!
United dump Boro out of the Champions League with a single-goal victory at Old Trafford, courtesy of Ruud van Nistelrooy — who else — and so, I await their return to the Premier League to see if they can do us the courtesy of losing their game in hand so we can overhaul them into second place.
Right then. It’s time for Boro and United’s games in hand. Hold on to your loved ones.
Bollocks.
With that dominant away win, we can’t catch Boro in second any more — they’re four points ahead of us with a game left. However, Chelsea can’t catch us either — so our final game against Fulham is now a meaningless, post-season friendly. It’s still a day out for the Rushden Ultras and their loving families, though, so we’ll be sure to put on a show and roll out all their favourites.
Back into the team come Jamie Davies, Alex Farnerud and Hugo Pinheiro, with Sousa and De Boer also given starts on what will be their final appearances for the club. Adam Hart lines up alongside Jamie Carragher at centre-half, and Cristiano Ronaldo will play at least 45 minutes up front on his own in the second half.
As I lead the team out onto the turf at Nene Park for the final time, the Peter De Banke Terrace is awash with white and blue. Flags are flying, songs are ringing out, and the Ultras rise to give the players a standing ovation for a wonderful maiden Premier League season. They might be used to winning, and although this is the first season since I arrived where we won’t have any silverware to add to our overflowing trophy cabinet, they can see what we’ve built here. We’ve become more than that little team from Irthlingborough. We are now the star of Northamptonshire — sorry, Northampton Town — and everyone’s looking out for us.
Sadly, Fulham keeper Patrik Andersson goes out of his way to ruin the home fans’ afternoon with a string of outrageous, death-defying saves to end this game 0–0. Fulham do absolutely nothing to trouble Hugo in goal, who has one of the easiest afternoons he’s had since he joined the club — and at the other end, it’s a miracle that Farnerud doesn’t score after hitting the post twice and having another two shots saved by the Cottagers’ keeper. We also hit the target through Duff, Sousa, Bubb, Torres, and then Lampard and Ronaldo when they come on, but Andersson’s pig-headed determination to do his job, even in the faces of crying children, is sickening. Truly sickening.
And so, with that, the metal security door slams shut on our first ever season in the Premier League. We’ve ended up 13 points back from Manchester United, but I really think, without that desperate run at the end of the season, we could have really challenged them. Turn a few of those defeats and draws into wins, especially the ones against the teams that we really, really should have beaten — get stuffed in particular, Derby County — and the gap suddenly wouldn’t have seemed so cavernous.
I pull my coat off the hook in my office and sling it over my shoulder, having arranged all my leftover bottles on the desk with a note for Susan to take whatever she fancies — all of it, I’d imagine. They say you shouldn’t look back, but after all we achieved, I can’t help but glance one final time, misty-eyed about promotion, Byron Bubb, and that League Cup win. After a final salute to the statue of Sir Les through the window, I flick out the light one last time, and close the door gently behind me.
The End.
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