Los Coladeros, Episode 2: Back to the Future
My old personal assistant, Susan, arrives in the nick of time to translate my team-talk for the visit of our first ever opponents in professional football: Palamós C.F. A glance over their squad gives me some hope; their players are similar to ours in a lot of ways, namely that there aren’t very many of them and their attributes vary wildly from one to the next. They’ve got a couple of handy defenders and a rapid striker we’ll need to keep an eye on, but the crown jewel of their side is obviously goalkeeper Marius Condom, who’ll most likely start in nets for them today. He seems like he’ll offer plenty of protection — thanks, I’ll be here all week. He goes straight onto my shortlist for the next transfer window because of course he does.
With my opponents thoroughly and professionally scouted, it’s time to line up my players for the first time. It’s an exciting moment. The addition of Michael Dunwell to my forward line means that Sergio Sestelo drops back into the ten role, and Adolfo will become one of my onrushing midfielders. That’s fine, though — he has 19 for Passing, so being slightly more withdrawn might not be a bad thing. The average age of my starting XI is 24, which includes two 30+ centre-halves, so we’ve got a very youthful look — especially in 16-year-old French attacking midfielder Steeve Gustan, whose extra E is fabulous and who I’ve got high hopes for. I feel confident, and also totally lost. I’ve got no idea what to expect. I just hope we don’t live up to our name.
It’s evening in Seville, which would lead you to believe it’s a bit cooler than it is during the day, but no. It’s still pushing 100 degrees, even at 9pm. The Spanish lads look fit and raring to go, whereas the English boys are carrying those little hand-held fans around with them. A hundred packs of corner shop AA batteries line my technical area. The Cartuja Ultras are looking confused in the stands. Let’s see what sort of fine mess we’ve gotten ourselves into this time.
The Condom isn’t going to get any action today as he doesn’t even make the Palamós squad, and it’s not long before they’re lamenting his absence as much as I am, because with six minutes on the clock Michael Dunwell has already thrust himself twice into the box and poked a couple through the Palamós back door. Maybe I’ll be fine after all.
First, Sestelo and Adolfo combine exactly as I hoped they would for the latter to lay the ball on a plate for Dunwell to open his account in the Sevillian sunshine with a thunderous volley, before taking one of several deep balls from Cárcaba and driving to the edge of the Palamos penalty area, where he uncorks an absolute thunderbastard that rattles past the love gloves of stand-in keeper Oscar Rojas for 2–0 to the Rainmakers. Then, on 12 minutes, Cárcaba is at it again, this time collecting a pass after a Ben Zevenbergen tackle and lofting the ball into the area for the onrushing Adolfo to turn and crash home his first ever Coladeros goal, and after testing Rojas a few more times and shutting out our opponents completely, we reach half-time 3–0 up and looking wonderful.
The second half is an irritating affair which contains all three hallmarks of my managerial career. First, Palamós manage a single effort on target which lobs over Hugo’s head and into the far corner to reduce the score to 3–1, before young Gustan pops up to score on his debut, only to see his effort ruled out for offside. Then, with ten minutes left, Dunwell is wiped out in the box and to the surprise of nobody at La Cartuja, sees his penalty appeal turned down — and he’s then booked in the aftermath for complaining to the referee. It’s like I was never away. However, despite all those shenanigans, it’s official: Los Coladeros have won their first ever game of professional football! La Liga here we come!
It’s a good start, and the Board are pleased. I’m also delighted with Raúl Pascual, the scout I inherited when I arrived, who’s identified two exceptional youth players who are available on free transfers: Benoît Assou-Ekotto and Mohamed Sissoko — yes, the one that used to play for Liverpool. They’re both offered deals because they’re young, decent, and I’ve actually heard of them, which is always helpful when trying to remember who’s who around the Cartuja training complex, which I’ve barely been to so far. The chaos of the transfer window meant mostly long, sleepless nights holed up in my hotel room. I should work on finding somewhere to live, but depending on how these first couple of months go, I guess I might not be here very long.
I also throw a whopping £4,000 at Northwich Victoria for a young man by the name of Wayne Linnett, who was brought to my attention by the fabulous managerial antics of Mr Megasave and his storybook successes at several clubs with this lad in his midfield. His stats are actually not bad for a 15-year-old, and after a couple of years alternating between long sessions at our outdoor training ground and the burns unit at the local hospital, I reckon he could become a player.
My offer for Linnett is accepted, but he rejects the chance to talk to me. Even Paul Gascoigne didn’t do that. I suppose he prefers Northwich to Seville — fair enough, Wayne. I’ll be back for you later. Assou-Ekotto and Sissoko both accept, however, and will join us on 15th December when the transfer window re-opens. I hope to be cruising at the top of the league by then.
Speaking of cruising, before the Palamós game I set Susan on a mission to find us a new set of wheels to take us to our away games… and she didn’t. She found us an old set instead. Four loyal, familiar axles have driven all the way from Irthlingborough to Portsmouth, taken a 28-hour ferry to Santander, then rolled the 800km from the north to the south of Spain just in time to barely transport a set of worried footballers hundreds of miles, this time for our upcoming game against Novelda. Susan just couldn’t bear to set out on another adventure without him, and you know what? I think she’s made the right call.
Wearing brand new flamenco skirting with a novelty horn, and like so many broken down, dusty old Brits before him, Chugger has moved to the south coast of Spain, his Iberian odyssey underway. I couldn’t be happier. The players look understandably perplexed as I give him a longer-than-necessary hug on the front bumper before ordering them all aboard for the long drive to Alicante. Chugger doesn’t have any air conditioning since we didn’t need it in Irthlingborough, so you’ll all just have to make do with opening the windows as far as they go. The windows are sealed shut? Well, strip down to your pants. It’s only five and a half hours.
Novelda lost their first game 2–0 to Mallorca B, and that’s pretty much all I know about them. My scouts tell me that their brand new striker and star man, Jorge Fernández, is a good player who will be keen to make an impression at his new club. I relay this information to Richard Smith, a man who is the complete opposite of Jorge Fernández in virtually every way, and he tells me not to worry. I feel safe.
Otherwise, we’re going out the same as we did for Palamós. It was a good performance from clearly my strongest team, and besides, I don’t really have any decent players to rotate in. It could be a long old season for these lads.
It’s another fantastic first half of football from Los Coladeros. Sergio Sestelo is involved in everything from the very first whistle, testing home keeper Rubén twice before firing into the side netting from a good position. It’s clear to see that nobody in green can track the runs of our La Fábrica acquisition, and it’s only a matter of time before he makes the breakthrough — 26 minutes after kick off, to be exact. Zevenbergen takes a corner, which is only half-cleared to the edge of the box, where Richard Smith is lurking. He heads back into the mixer, where Sestelo evades the Novelda defence and pokes home his first goal of the season to give us a deserved 1–0 lead. Dunwell also hits the target before the break, but after another total shut-out, we reach half time a goal to the good.
As in our last game, Smith is a monster at the back, but his defensive partner Bastida isn’t really looking up to the task. I assume his parents named him Jesus as some sort of joke. I swap him for Antonio at the break to see if he can Influence his way to an 8, and back out we go.
12 minutes into the second half, with the first notable action, Antonio is booked for flattening David Cid on the edge of the box. At least he’s attempting tackles, I suppose. Two minutes later, though, we’re sniffing around the Novelda penalty area again; Sestelo, Zevenbergen and Gustan combine to thread a ball into the box for Adolfo — and he’s taken down by Mullor! The referee waves play on, of course… but the linesman is flagging! My Spanish isn’t perfect, but he seems to tell him that he’s a blind oaf and that it was definitely a foul, and after consultation — THE PENALTY IS GIVEN! As is traditional, I haven’t set any penalty takers and simply allow my players to argue about it on the pitch, and after much wrangling and a great degree of misunderstanding, free-kick specialist Ben Zevenbergen steals the ball and puts it down on the spot. He takes a few steps back, runs up…
GOL GOL GOL GOL GOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLL ZEVENBERGEN! It’s 2–0 to the Rainmakers, and with this one surely tied up, I make my protective substitutions and let the lads run this one out for the most comfortable of away wins. The players high five me in turn as they come off the pitch at full-time. Hopefully this will help them forget about the long, smelly drive home.
Meanwhile, in true Spanish fashion, there are absolute shenanigans going on up and down the leagues…
Terrassa manager Miguel Alvarez has staged a particular coup there, you’ve got to say. Plus we’ll have to make sure to keep an eye out for the Mataró game… I suddenly don’t fancy them any more.
I also don’t fancy C.D. Hospitalet, who we play next in the preliminary round of the Spanish Cup. They sound like a novelty team started by a bunch of French doctors, but when you consider that they play their games at the Municipal de l’Hospitalet and are based in a town called L’Hospitalet de Llobregat, the name starts to make more sense. Either the team is simply named after the town, or those docs really doubled down when they got here several decades ago.
They’re in the D2B3 with us, they also have a 100% record, are a place above us in 2nd on goal difference, and to be honest… they’ve got a really good squad. They’ve trampled over Figueres and Orihuela on their way to those first two wins, their strikers are scoring, their defenders are solid, and it seems like all their players have got 17s and 18s in all the right places. We’re going to be their first real test this season, and as it turns out, they’re going to be ours as well. I’m nervous, since I still have no real idea how good my players actually are. We might have just beaten the two teams that are going to finish in the bottom two, and are about to get slapped around by this division’s big boys.
I decide to drop Jesús María Bastida all the way out of my squad and replace him in the starting team with Jordi Navas, but otherwise, it’s the same team we’ve had so far this season. I get some extra subs in the cup, which gives Brian McGovern and Eduardo Benito their first excuses to put kits on this season, but despite some extreme dehydration from the Chugger journey north to Catalonia, we seem ready to go. ¡Vamos!
We start fantastically, with Sestelo shooting over in the first minute trying to find his range, before Jamie Victory wins a free-kick wide on the left. He hovers over it, ignores my cries to let Zevenbergen take it, and whips it in towards Sestelo — he loses out Agirre, but he can only clear it to the edge of the box, where Javi Cárcaba is waiting! JAVI SHOOTS! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL COLADEROS! Javi Cárcaba smashes a low volley through the crowd of players and into the far corner to give us the lead with just seven minutes on the clock!
It’s a tremendous start that serves only to wake up Hospitalet. After home keeper Eduardo Almansa saves from a Dunwell header, the action reverts to our end. Joan Barbarà, who I’m not 100% sure is eligible to play in men’s football, tests Pinheiro twice with a volley and then a half-volley from just inside the box, and my defence seems to be rocking. Eventually, their pressure tells: Agirre and star winger Angel Luis torment my defence with one-two passes and exquisite dribbling before the latter manages to turn past Smith inside the box and fire a low shot past Hugo to tie the score at 1–1 — and that’s how we come in for half time.
Both teams look evenly matched so far, which is nice to see considering they’re better than us in virtually every way, so I decide not to change anything and go for the restart quickly. Unfortunately, it doesn’t pay off: Barbarà jinks into the area in the 54th minute and hits a shot that Hugo can only parry, and she — sorry, he pounces on the rebound to give the home side the lead. My players are flagging from consecutive bus journeys with no fresh air, food or water, and it’s showing. I react, hooking Smith for McGovern and Zevenbergen for Tarachalski, and go far more attacking. Sestelo takes advantage of the momentary chaos in the Hospitalet wards at having to suddenly look after twice as many players and hits three rangy shots from around the box, with one saved superbly by Almansa, another pinging back off the post, and the third clipping the bar and going out of play.
It doesn’t feel like it’s going to be our day, and the result is compounded as the clock winds down — Juan Enrique Cárcel, on as a substitute, volleys home unmarked from a left-wing cross with ten minutes to go. I throw on Benito to try to make something happen, but he spends ten minutes making just two passes, and our first go at the Spanish Cup has slipped away before it even began. It’s a shame, but I’m not too concerned. We’ve learned a lot about Hospitalet, and how they’re likely to do exactly the same thing to us in the league. I might need to come up with a Plan B.
And part of that Plan B will be Karl Ready, finally negotiated down to sweating his nuts off for a pittance on a daily basis at the La Cartuja training complex. Then again, if we keep playing like this, he’ll probably end up being Plan A alongside Richard Smith. I made myself sad.
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