Los Coladeros, Episode 23: Max The Knife
The Great Man arriving in a month is a great result for us, but in the meantime, I feel like I need to get the best out of Tsigalko. A couple of my dearest Ultras got in touch to tell me they think the only way to get the best out of him is to make him the main man, a lone wolf, prowling opposing penalty areas as a solo act… though with a very strong supporting cast. I don’t really want to drop my new favourite Uruguayan since he’s in fine form, but when I set up Los Coladeros, I said it was going to be a fan-owned club — and I’m sticking to what I said. You’ve spoken, and I’ll listen.
So, despite Abreu being my top scorer, he’s going to enjoy some time on the bench for at least our next game, at La Cartuja, against 19th-placed Polideportivo Ejido. They’re doing pretty horribly in the league so far this season, but even still, two of their best three players are centre-halves — so whichever way you slice it, Maxim’s got a job on to get the goals today. The rest of the team line up in an I’ve-heard-this-works 4–1–2–2–1, with Teddy, Tobby and Stefan Bergtoft on shinpad-testing duty, Victory and The Ungdertaker guarding the flanks, Mikel Alonso shimmying and pirouetting in midfield, Sergio arriving from downtown, and the dynamic dribbling duo of Tonton Zola Moukoko and Jonas Lundén dancing around in the gaps behind the hopefully sharpshooting Tsigalko. I have to say, despite this being a complete etch-a-sketch restart for my tactics… I’m rather excited. Susan? Bag at the ready, if you would.
The commentary notes that Ejido look like “they’d be happy to keep a clean sheet”, and when Tonton fires a swerving thunderbastard at goal in the first ten seconds, I start to understand why. Keeper Kike tips that one over the bar, and is then forced into action from Victory’s resulting corner to deny Bergtoft’s towering header. Four minutes in, we’ve already hit the target twice, and… yeah. This seems to be going rather well.
We’re all over Ejido for the next 20 minutes, with Kike constantly denying us. Then, suddenly, Teddy almost decapitates Boli inside the penalty area and every muscle in my body chokes me into catatonia, but thankfully for my medical team, our marvellously monikered referee Jaso Delgado waves away the protests with an extremely continental swipe of his right hand. We continue to probe and prod, but eventually, the half time whistle sounds with the scores tied up at zeroes, and my lone wolf left begging for scraps.
While Tsigalko hasn’t had a shot on target yet, it has to be said that his backing singers aren’t exactly giving him much to go on. Moukoko is hitting the target every time he gets the ball, which I suppose is fine since he’ll eventually (presumably) score, while Lundén just isn’t having the best of games so far. I draw several large arrows on my tactical blackboard pointing to Tsigalko and clap and roar loudly until the players join in with me. That should do the trick.
Tsigalko finally gets his first chance in the 51st minute and balloons it into orbit — but that’s okay, you know. It’s his first sight of goal as a mopey goth loner up front, and I’m prepared to give him a chance to make amends. Kike then turns another Moukoko volley over the bar in what’s turning into a virtuoso display for the Swede… or so I think. It turns out that I don’t even know the meaning of the word.
On 66 minutes, with Maxim lost on a 6 and my finger hovering over the Tactics button, Jamie Victory decides he’s had enough of this shit, and plunders his way down the left wing. He skins two Ejido players, gets to the edge of the area, and whips a cross in from the left — Tsigalko climbs above Traversa to win the header! MAXIM TSIGALKO!!
HNNNGGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL COLADEROOOOOSSS!
MAXIIIIIIIM TSIGALKOOOOOOOOOOO!!
The Ultras go ballistic in the stands as their tactics pay dividends, and Tsigalko finally nabs us the lead. I’m more relieved to be ahead than anything else, but I take a moment to fist-bump Jimmy — with explosion — and give Susan the signal to shake me a vodka martini before settling down for the remainder of the second half.
I return to my technical area just in time to see Jorge Campos smother bravely at the feet of Urbano before releasing Jamie Victory down the left once again. He advances, much as he did before — but this time, his progress is halted prematurely by a crunching tackle from Paco. Victory dusts himself down, positions the ball, and floats the free-kick into the area — Tsigalko gets above Ángel this time! TSIGALKO! GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOOOOOOOOL TSIGALKO! It’s 2–0! Maxim Tsigalko has a brace!
Ejido, flummoxed by the brutality of the Belarusian, kick off once again. Paco goes back to Ángel, who tries to chip the ball forwards — but it’s intercepted by Lundén! Lundén drives past García, and centres the ball! Tsigalko is there again! TSIGALKO WITH THE VOLLEY! HNNNNNGGGGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL COLADEROS! Maxim Tsigalko completes his hat-trick, and by golly, you were right! You were all right, all along!
I swap Alonso for Conceição for the closing stages as poor Ejido, surely blinded by this blitz of lightning and fury, kick off once again. Bergtoft immediately wipes out their entire midfield and comes away with the ball, before laying off to Sestelo. Sergio glides forwards and passes to Lundén, who turns, looks up, and slaps yet another ball into the box — the defenders cower! Tsigalko soars! TSIGALKO AGAIN! GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOOOOOOOOOOLLLL! IT’S 4–0! Maxim Tsigalko has dismantled Ejido single-handedly!!
I make my final moves, withdrawing Tsigalko so that he can enjoy a standing ovation from the Cartuja Ultras. Aiden McVeigh gets a run in his place, but in all honesty, the game is well over, and the final 20 minutes breeze by with no commentary. And well it might, because today isn’t about the first 60 minutes, or the last 20. It’s about seven stunning second-half minutes, where Maxim Tsigalko cleared his throat, adjusted his tie, and finally announced himself to me, my coaching staff, and the world. What a day, what a performance from my new favourite Belarusian, and you know what, Ultras? This win is for you. I’ll never doubt you again.
Well I never. Tsigalko doubles his tally for the season and, in the process, leaps ahead of Abreu as my top scorer, meaning I no longer have to worry about having my main marksman on the sidelines. It’s almost like all my troubles have been reversed in the space of a single fixture.
All of a sudden, two things happen: offers arrive that would take both my former Diamonds away from me. Avila bid £150k for the very much surplus-to-requirements Paul Underwood, and in the same breath, C.D. Lugo of the D2B1 arrive with a whopping £275k for Tarkan Mustafa. With neither in serious first-team contention, and with £425k sounding like just enough for Susan’s Christmas present, I accept both bids, and contracts are summarily offered. I feel a tinge of sadness as both agree to leave in a few weeks’ time, but my head tells me to stop being so soppy; with Duff, Fernando and Kalogeras coming the other way, I’m not just upgrading — we’re going to be downright overpowered in both full-back positions from now on. I just like a bit of nostalgia around the place.
I give both my former Diamonds hearty thumps on the back and leave them at a Patio San Eloy for some oxtail lasagne, while bundling all the players who won’t shortly be leaving back onto Chugger for the sunny drive north to Getafe, near Madrid. Getafe look like they should be in La Liga in a few years, maybe 2004 if I had to guess… but for the time being, they’re sitting in mid-table, too far from the leaders to trouble them but also in no real danger of slipping into the relegation zone just yet.
Looking at the stats my players are cranking out, even despite our three disappointing defeats, it’s clear that my team is really starting to come together, and their personalities are finally imprinting on me. Nikolaos Tobros, God of War is averaging 5.6 tackles per game, with Teddy Lucic and Stefan Bergtoft just behind him at 3.3. The three of them are doing marvellous jobs as my first choice defensive axis, a sort of Bermuda Triangle for incoming forwards — and a quick glance at a nearby encyclopedia tells me that another name for the Bermuda Triangle is Hurricane Alley, which seems almost too appropriate a moniker for my terrorising trio — so you can consider it stolen. Encyclopedias are so useful, but aren’t they heavy? If only there was an easier way.
At the other end, Tsigalko’s exploits against Ejido have left him top of the goalscoring charts, while Lundén tops the assists with Victory and Alonso just behind. Tonton hasn’t really been given a proper run in the first team, so his stats are a little disappointing at the moment, but I’m going to let him start at least the next few games, injury permitting, so I can get a proper look at the lad. He had a fantastic pre-season tour of Wales, so if he can just drag that form into the season proper, we could be looking at another trio of megastars in my forward line. I’m happy with the job Sestelo and Alonso are doing in CM at the moment, and with the likes of Conceição, Abreu and Richard Dunne in reserve, plus the players that are inbound when the transfer window opens, I feel like we’re in pretty good shape to snatch promotion this season.
Well, Getafe absolutely batter us throughout the first half. It appears my new, narrower formation is proving counter-productive against a team with so much strength on the flanks, and so it proves over and over again: our hosts finish the half having had 11 shots on goal, though only three on target thanks to the continuing dominance of my deadly Dorito, the Toblerone of Terror, Teddy, Tobby and Bergtoft. They usher all Getafe’s attackers into Hurricane Alley and they mostly blaze over or wide, and when they do break through and get shots on target, Jorge Campos and his halloween-themed kit — bright orange with pumpkin makeup, naturally — deny Aitor, Craioveanu and Roberto from the edge of the box. We only manage to get up their end once, with a Moukoko header saved by a different Roberto in the home nets, while Lundén, Victory and Tsigalko all miss the target. The half eventually finishes with the scores still tied at zeroes, but there’s no doubt that Getafe are taking us apart on the wings, and it’s surely only a matter of time before it pays off.
I take action at half time to try to redress the problem. Ung and Alonso are both outdoing themselves with 5s at the break, having basically failed with every pass, tackle and header they’ve tried, so they’re given stiff slaps across the face and deposited in el banco for the second half, with Tsikitsiris and Conceição coming on to replace them. I also move back to The Diamond, with a flat three across midfield, one AMC, and Tsigalko remaining as the lone striker. It’s my hope that the rigidity of Lucic at right back and sending Lundén straight at Getafe’s left-back might keep them occupied down that side, at least. Our left hand side still looks a bit suspect, but we’ll start with this and see how we get on.
The commentary notes that Getafe are pushing on to look for the opener, which I hope will play right into the hands of my updated side — and for the first 15 minutes of the half, it really does. Suddenly it’s all us, as we sniff out every attack and lay the ball on a plate for Tsigalko, who continually blazes his shots into the travelling Ultras behind the goal. Once again, I’m starting to get a little antsy on the touchline as we reach the hour mark… but I really, really should have learned my lesson last time.
Lundén intercepts a pass from Craioveanu and feeds it wide to Victory. He takes the ball down on his chest and makes up 20 yards down the left before laying inside to Sestelo. Sergio waits, shimmies, spots the run of Tsigalko, and whips a perfect ball into his path — and Maxim! On the volley!! GOAL TSIGALKO! GOLGOLGOLGOLGOLGOLGOL COLADEROS!! Yet again, just as my faith is waning, Maxim Tsigalko wellies home the opener to give us the lead, in the 62nd minute!
Getafe kick off. 63 minutes on the clock. Sestelo robs Roberto and attacks down the left again, playing a ball to the feet of Tsigalko. He lays off first time to the onrushing Lundén — but he’s wiped out wide on the right by Alvaro. Free kick to the Rainmakers. 64 minutes gone. Lucic, for some reason, whips the free-kick into the box — AND TSIGALKO IS THERE AGAIN! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL COLADEROS! Maxim Tsigalko’s 6th goal in two games, and his second goal in two minutes, puts us 2–0 up!
The man is a monster, it’s clear for all to see. I let the game run for ten more minutes before letting Abreu come on in the AMC role — a position he doesn’t really want to play, but you never know. He does like a banana shot. The substitution is inspired, for Getafe, who win a free-kick a minute later, 20 yards out, and their captain Vivar Dorado flights it expertly into the top corner, with Campos stranded. The game pulled back to 2–1, I’m concerned about the prospect of a familiar collapse… but it never comes. The clock simply ticks from 77 to 89 minutes in the blink of an eye, and just like that, we’ve won again! Tsigalko is the hero of the piece, no doubt, but I allow myself a little high-five with my other hand to celebrate my half-time changes.
Well then. A dominant defence, a sharpshooter up front, and a manager who’s actually capable of changing his team to overcome stiff opponents? We should be laughing all the way to La Liga, and on that subject, our last two wins have elevated our standing: we’re still third in the league, but we’ve kicked up some dust in front of Tenerife and are now breathing down the necks of Nástic and Valladolid — in fact, Nástic can only possibly be ahead of us on head-to-head results, since we’ve won more and scored more. It’s a useful little buffer, because guess who we’ve got next? Yes, you guessed it: Tenerife at La Cartuja.
I also decide to use the week to scout some players for my burgeoning youth project, and notice that there’s a young man in the D2B who’s been pulling trees out of the ground despite only recently being born. I make a £200k offer for him, it’s accepted, he realises he’s never getting into the first team so is happy with being a Decent Young Player for the next five years… and just like that, my newest wonderkid will be here in a couple of weeks. Welcome to the Rainmakers, Fernando Contreras!
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