Los Coladeros, Episode 53: Aw Hell Yeah
Maxim Tsigalko is Player of the Year in an absolute landslide, obviously. Obviously! There was really no contest. Top scorer not just for us but for the whole league, and ten assists to go along with them made him by far our most valuable player. I’d have been amazed if you’d voted for anyone else.
The more important thing, dear reader, is that Mark F — king Kerr is here. Mark Kerr!! Can you actually believe it? And not only him, but others — and as a result, my squad is looking pretty tidy right now, I’ve got to say. Fiddling my players around into the Slip ‘n Slide makes for some excellent reading.
I wasn’t planning on playing Welsh at centre-half, but he’s rated the same as Tobros, making him one of our best defenders — no surprises there — and considering the way the War God deteriorated last season, plus the fact that he’s still only 18 years old, means he can ride el banco for the start of the season and my brand new, more experienced pairing of Desailly and Welsh will be tasked with stopping Nigeria’s finest. That’s if they even have anything to do, considering that Raúl García, Simon Davies and MARK F — KING KERR are prowling the turf just ahead of them. They might not need to make a single tackle all season. I’ll tell you what: I’m looking forward to this.
It would be nice if literally anyone would sign the players I’ve put on the transfer list; not just because we desperately need the money, but also to trim my expanding squad down a bit. With no reserve or B team to dump them in, I’m having to do far too much scrolling for my liking, and it’s making me anxious. What if I accidentally play Tonton in goal? I can’t deal with it for much longer.
My squad might just get larger by one player, however. See, Barcelona have been tipped to challenge for the title by some of Spain’s most unadventurous journalists, and the ever-magnanimous Louis van Gaal agrees with them. I’ve checked their squad, which is basically the same but with Jaap Stam, Carsten Ramelow and Mark Iuliano added to it, as if they needed help defensively — but there’s one player of theirs I’d like. And I think I’d get him. That man… is substitute goalkeeper Albert Jorquera.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Why on earth would I sign a hopeless fifth choice goalkeeper when I might be able to nick, I don’t know… Andres Iniesta from their B team? Well, take Jorquera out of their squad… and they only have one goalkeeper, Roberto Bonano. He’s obviously excellent, but what happens if he gets injured, or suspended? Their B team doesn’t have any goalkeepers in it either, meaning they won’t even be able to promote anyone. So if I take Jorquera right before the transfer deadline, and Bonano gets sent off at any point before December… you see where I’m going with this. And I don’t know about you, but I’d love to watch one of the world’s best teams reduced to having Michael Reiziger in goal for a month.
I’ll only do it if I can time it to go through just before the deadline, though. If I go in too early they’ll just sign a replacement that’s about five times better than Jorquera, and at the end of the day, I’d rather he was there than a superior replacement. But if I can nick him so they’ve got no backups… ehehehehe. If I wasn’t typing, I’d be making finger pyramids all over the place. Now, if I just knew when the transfer deadline was…
It’s some time in mid-August, which means there’s still plenty of time to find some value. Cafú is released on a free transfer by Roma, but his wage demands are, as you’d imagine, stratospheric. I can’t even offer half of the £75k per week that he wants, but Juventus, AC Milan and, amazingly, Roma approach him immediately with deals of their own. Oh well. It would have been fantastic to have him here, but we’re doing okay at the back now.
Especially given the next news item in my inbox, which is that QPR have made a £475k bid for Luton Town’s Clint Hill. I check with my scouts, who tell me that Clint is three stars better than Marcel Desailly — and at just half a million Queens, that’s all I need to know. I go in with £500k over 24 months and wait impatiently for my rejection fax.
It doesn’t arrive before we’re due in Wales to face one of Europe’s top sides, Total Network Solutions. They’ve got a UEFA Cup qualifying round to face in a few weeks’ time, and I’m honoured to help them warm up for it — plus, I’m delighted they didn’t qualify for the Champions League. At least there’s no chance we’ll come up against them, for now at least. I decide to start with the team I posted at the start of the episode, because I just can’t tell you how excited I am to see all my new players start a game for us. TNS or not, this is going to be fantastic.
It’s a decent warm-up match for both sides. TNS provide exactly the sort of stern resistance I expected, with goalkeeper Dean Williams excelling himself to keep Tsigalko, Drogba, Victory, Arteta and Samba at bay, but eventually, the deadlock is broken by none other than Marcel Desailly, who rises highest to head home a Jamie Victory corner just before half time. I make all my subs at the break, and Nikolaos Tobros states his intent to fight for a starting spot this season by winning all six of his attempted tackles, four being key; it’s a good sign. Welsh also does tremendously on his debut, Drogba is a handful, Simon Davies and Mark Kerr would both have assists if Tsigalko could finish his chances — I’m happy. It’s a good start.
Post match, Trevor Steven takes me aside to tell me that he thinks Giannis Kalogeras, my young Greek left-back, is seriously impressing him in training and deserves a run in the side. You know what, Trev? I see it too. He’ll get a chance in Nigeria. We already know what Jamie Victory can do, after all. Let’s give youth a chance. His attributes have rocketed up since we first signed him.
As I await the news about Clint Hill, I’m surprised by a £1.3m bid from Tenerife for Thanisis Tsikitsiris. Now, while I have a feeling the Greek lad might well develop into one of world football’s most rugged centre-halves, I need players who can win the Champions League now, not in five years’ time. Swapping Tsikitsiris for Hill, plus trousering around £800k in the process, would represent superb business — so I accept their offer. A.D Ceuta swoop with a similar bid, which I also accept, and while Cafú is finalising his return to Roma in one of the most pointless exercises in recent memory, Tsikitsiris agrees a move to the Canary Islands on the same day that Clint Hill struts through the front doors at La Cartuja. Not bad business at all.
Clint is delighted to hear that we’re heading straight off to mix it up in Nigeria on our pre-season tour, and he’s going to be starting our first game against Eagle Cement FC at centre-half alongside Marcel Desailly. It is, presumably, a dream come true for him.
We’ve got a few days to kill before the game, so I let the players grab some authentic Nigerian street food from a roadside barbecue that looks… fine? I’m sure it’s fine. Nikos Andrielos is wide-eyed as he tears into some ponmo, which Susan tells me is processed cow skin. I’ll stick with the sandwiches I brought from home, thanks.
Can you guess who opens the scoring? That’s right, big Clint, who connects with a Harbuzi corner to thump a header past Idahor and give us the lead, before Cherno Samba converts a penalty just before half time for 2–0 at the break. We labour as I gradually make my subs, but come alive in the final ten minutes — Andrielos bundling home a loose ball from a corner before Drogba sets up Ronaldo to plant a looping header into the far corner to complete the scoring. Nice and easy.
My squad feels like it’s coming together pretty well in time for the new season, but there are still some holes that I’d like to patch. I feel like we’re still short of a properly top-class DMC; Raúl García is nasty, but one-dimensional. Centre-half still concerns me since it looks like I’m going to be relying heavily on 35-year-old Marcel Desailly and 33-year-old Steven Lustü, who are still classy, but are going to start heaving as the weeks and months tick by. And also, I’m just realising that I’ve lost all three of Shearer, Recoba and Batistuta and only replaced them with one Didier Drogba, who — I’m afraid to say — can’t currently hold a candle to any of them. I’m very happy to be strapping myself to the good ships Tsigalko and Samba, but if one of them got injured, I’m now realising that the AMC queue is comprised of Lundén, Moukoko and Harbuzi; maybe Ronaldo, but then I need someone else to play in midfield.
None of that fills me with confidence or happiness, so I decide to flex my season ticket-bolstered £7m transfer kitty. Precisely filtered searches for a new DMC lead me to Celtic, and Stilian Petrov: still only 25 with Scottish dual nationality and numbers in all the right places, he would be a significant upgrade on Stefan Bergtoft and would give us a whole raft of new options since he could easily move into MC or even AMC if we were short. He also allows us to play with a DMC in a different way: Raúl García is just plain nasty, like a claw hammer hanging in Mike Myers’ garage, whereas while Petrov can hold his own in the tackle, he also has more fanciful attributes like Flair, Creativity and Passing, allowing us to build potent attacks from back to front in games where a hatchet man isn’t needed. Petrov is more like a Swiss Army Knife, but, you know… one we’d actually use.
In AMC, after scouring Holland and coming up short, I head to the Brazilian First Division in search of Kaká, who’s still at São Paulo — a man I’ve wanted for many years, but has always been out of reach. His value of £2.7m doesn’t look too daunting, but knowing Brazilian teams as I do, they’re probably going to hold out for my entire warchest to part with their star player. Andres D’Alessandro has the same issue, although he’s valued at £5m so I can’t see them releasing him for less than ten. A little disheartened, I scour the other top teams in Brazil and Argentina looking for young, hungry pieces of coal that I can pressure into being diamonds, and after I’ve passed an eye over Boca’s Carlos Tevez, I arrive at Santos — and, nestled alongside Elano, find just the fella I’ve been looking for.
Yep, it’s the Diego, the one that wound up with 34 caps for Brazil and stints at Porto, Werder Bremen, Juventus and Atlético Madrid. He is a serious talent in 2004, and valued at just £975k, I have a feeling he might be a Wet Bandit before too long.
Back to our friendlies, and next up, we’re welcomed to Shooting Stars. Do they have players called Vic and Bob? They sadly do not — but they do have a tasty-looking centre-mid called Ganiyu Ayodele who looks like he could develop rather nicely. I tell my scouts to watch him because I’ll be busy helping Susan to make an optic full of Old Fashioned for installation in my technical area when we get home.
We concede for the first time on the tour via the lad I’ve been fluttering my eyelashes at, but still run out comfortable winners thanks to a stunning Ronaldo double and a first goal in the white and blue for Didier Drogba. My midfield three of Ronaldo, Davies and Kerr were imperious throughout this game, with eight key passes between them, an assist for the Welshman, and obviously that brace for CR7, who’s really developing into the greasy world-beater we know and love. My scouts hand me their reports on Ayodele at full-time — “goalscoring midfielder, would recommend”. Thanks guys. Never change.
As soon as the game is over, and with just one week until the Spanish transfer deadline, I launch my bid to stiff Barcelona by taking their reserve goalkeeper away from them just before they can do anything about it. And then, it’s time to face the music. I knew this day would come sooner or later. We’re off to the Court of Appeal, as I face charges of bribery and money launder- oh no, that’s just the name of the team we’re playing! Thank goodness! Forget… forget all that other stuff I said.
We score three times and are extremely good value for our win. Mark Kerr, given the freedom to roam forward a little more today, is absolutely unstoppable, notching five key passes, two shots on target and an assist in a MOTM-winning performance. He lobs a ball in for Giannis Kalogeras to open the scoring, before Ronaldo converts a spot kick that the home side concede for a foul on Samba. Second half, Kerr, Drogba and Alonso then combine to get the ball to Mike Duff on the right, and he crosses for the unmarked Labinot Harbuzi to do more with one kick than Jonas Lundén had managed in the hour he’d been on the pitch before him, and at 3–0, the game is well done. We have five more shots on the Court of Appeal target but Rabiu Okafor bails them out with several excellent saves, and eventually, justice is served. That’s enough of that, isn’t it. The only blot on this win is an injury to Ronaldo that will keep him out for two weeks, possibly missing the first game of the season proper. We’ll see.
As we jump back onto our rental bus for the trip to play Wikki Tourists — nobody tell Chugger — Kalogeras bashes his shin on the stairs and will be out injured for a few days, and as I sit down, Susan texts me to say that my bids for Petrov and Diego have been rejected by Celtic and Santos respectively. I tell her to go back with improved offers, whatever she thinks is best, but a glance at the clock gives me the fear. We’re running out of time.
In better news, however, my little scheme has come to fruition as Albert Jorquera agrees to join us from Barcelona until the end of the season. We’ll see how they react to that, shall we? I’m feeling pretty smug as the players trudge up the steps and into their seats, although a few of them aren’t looking so well. Harbuzi is sweating and shivering like a shitting dog, and Andrielos has to stop to throw up before he gets on. What the hell is wrong with all of you? You didn’t run that far during the game. Don’t try to trick me.
In one fell swoop, we’ve lost three players to food poisoning, of all things. With hindsight, I probably should have known that coming to Africa and letting my young players eat pieces of undercooked mystery meat from a street barbecue was a mistake. You live and learn.
We arrive looking and feeling rather green for our final friendly at the Tafawa Balewa against the Wikki Tourists, and I’m stunned to see that their stadium is twice the size of ours. Twice the size!! I’m not jealous at all, of course — it’s fine. Susan, ask around and see if they’d be up for a ground share next season, would you?
My enforced changes work pretty well together, I’ve got to say. Arteta and Drogba put us into a 2–0 lead in the space of four first-half minutes, from yet more assists by Kerr and Davies. The Scot makes it three on the hour, but when he’s also forced off injured, I start to wonder if this entire tour has been cursed. Voodoo witch doctors can buy tickets the same as everyone else, after all.
Frightened, I drag off anyone I truly care about to protect them from being struck down with scarlet fever or tuberculosis or something in the last half hour, and after a cagey finish, this appallingly-conceived pre-season tour is finally over. I can’t wait to get home. I think we’ll stick with Wales in future.
I’m very happy to see that Mark Kerr has just stubbed his toe and hasn’t been hexed with terminal foot cancer, so he’ll only be out for a fortnight — probably missing our opener against Deportivo, but after the tour we’ve had, I’m just glad he’s still alive. Celtic return wanting £3.6m for Petrov, which I accept with the condition that we pay it over two years. They say yes right as the window is about to be slammed on my fingers; his demands are incredibly steep, and I momentarily consider just giving it all to him because there’s no time to haggle. In the end, though, I choose to stick to my principles — £1.3m as a signing on fee is obscene, and besides, we don’t actually need Petrov — he’d just be a great addition to my squad. He can take what I offer and move to the glorious Sevillian sunshine, or stick around in the Glasgow dreich for the next few years. Whatever you want, mate.
Those terrible bastards at Santos continue to reject my bids for Diego despite them going more than four times over his actual value — so while I send a final offer back to them, I pretty much have to concede defeat on that front for now. Petrov, however, finds the lure of cheap lager and all the pork he can eat too tempting to turn down, and, on deadline day, I’ve got my man. I feel a lot better about my squad now, I can tell you.
The Spanish transfer window then closes entirely, and the moment we safely land back in Seville, I call Susan to ask her if Barcelona signed anyone while we were gone… they haven’t! They’re going for at least the next few months with just Roberto Bonano on their goalkeeping list. A-HA! Charade you are, King Louis!
Hilarious. The news of van Gaal’s enormous oversight is followed by international call-up day, and wouldn’t you know it, finishing second in La Liga has shone a spotlight on quite a few of our players, some of whom are handed honours for the first time. Fernando Contreras, my young striker, makes it to Spain U21s, while Tobros and Andrielos will surely get a run for the Greek kids as well; Nuno Mata is back with Portugal U21s, Labinot Harbuzi joins up with Sweden’s youth side, Stilian Petrov is one of Bulgaria’s best players by several furlongs so he’s in their squad, and Maxim Tsigalko will surely lead the line for Belarus against Ireland and Liechtenstein.
The biggest news, however, is that England’s Under-21 side has been picked for their games against Armenia and Bulgaria, and while the inclusion of John Welsh is no surprise, another selection sparks wild celebrations at La Cartuja — Cherno Samba is finally given international recognition for both his form and his development, and he will tussle with Jermain Defoe, Carlton Cole, Darren Bent, Leon Knight and someone called Richard Watson for a starting berth. What a great day this is turning out to be.
Back at La Cartuja, I gather all the players and staff around the small black-and-white television in my office for the draw of the Champions League Phase 1 Group Stage. We’re immediately given £1.8m just for being one of the fat cats in the hat, which is extremely welcome news… and then the groups are revealed.
I obviously don’t need to tell you that Steven Gerrard, Michael Owen, Jerzy Dudek, John Arne Riise and the newly-added Rafael Van der Vaart are going to give us problems, but Werder Bremen are another side that bother me. Their side isn’t packed with stellar names, but their forward line is prolific and their defenders are rock-solid; even Paul Stalteri isn’t a guy whose pint you’d want to knock over. BATE ought to be the whipping boys of the group, especially since half their squad are ghosts, but the top three places could go anywhere. Well, actually, let’s be realistic: Liverpool are going to sweep all before them, and we’re going to have a sausage fight with the Germans over who sneaks through in second.
Then again, it could be worse. We could be Real Madrid. So hard to feel sorry for them, isn’t it?
Our first game is at Anfield in two and a half weeks, but for now, our excitement at competing in Europe for the first time will have to take a back seat, because it’s August 28th, and you know what that means: another La Liga season is about to get underway. First up? Deportivo La Coruña at La Cartuja. We’re battered, we’re bruised, we’re still spending an awful lot of time in the toilet… but we’re ready. Sort of.
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