Take Me To Church, Ep 3: Beginnings
Today begins with news of further incoming transfers. Trialists Ronnie Green and Danny Williams get one-year deals after looking good enough in our pre-season friendlies to dodge the glue factory for the time being, while I also agree terms with very good Chelsea defender Steven Watt on a three-month loan. All my long-term loan slots are taken, so this’ll have to do. Hey — it’s something.
I’ve asked my birth-team Hillingdon Borough if they’d like a final friendly before the big curtain-raiser on August 14th, but with confirmation yet to happen, we go to what is currently our last game before the season starts proper: Rhayader away.
And it’s another win, but not just that — it’s a good win. We’re much better than our hosts, win by three goals to one, and have solid performances all round. I’m not sure what this means for the Conference South, but for today at least, our long drive back to East London will be celebratory. Plus, a first goal for Charlie Sheringham! Spiceworld! He probably won’t get that reference.
Hillingdon accept my friendly proposal, so it’s full speed ahead to the start of the season and WHAT ON EARTH
TWO WORK PERMIT APPLICATIONS APPROVED!! They’re for players I haven’t even mentioned up to now because I thought there was zero chance of them coming, but LOOK! Look at my shiny new toys!!
Ancil Elcock not only has the perfect name for my horny church, but has to book extra hold luggage for his 111 Trinidad & Tobago caps! He’s also the man who once took out Cuauhtémoc Blanco in a World Cup qualifier and he’s Stern John’s cousin. You can’t get greater pedigree than that, at this level, with this specific experience, for free. No denying it.
But, to be honest, I’m far more excited about…
Yep, an actually decent, relatively young South American prospect. This is a GOOD signing! A real-life good signing, not just one that I manage to convince myself is a good signing like that Trinidadian thug above! Left-back has gone from my weakest to strongest position in the space of one week. How benevolent the Football Manager gods can be.
Absolute scenes. The Cabrera transfer has reduced my transfer funds to £8k, so if my other South Americans get their work permits approved I might be in a spot of trouble with who I can afford to shove into the dressing room, but no matter. I didn’t think I’d get anyone. Cabrera is a huge acquisition.
And speaking of huge acquisitions, does Adam Birchall on a three-month loan from Arsenal count? No? Well, he’s here anyway.
In fairness he’s a good option over Charlie Sheringham since young Chaz is only 15 and is so under-developed he’s got seven attributes with no values attached to them. He can spend some time in my U18s safe in the knowledge that I’ll call on him with no hesitation if the need arises — but between now and early November at least, Birchall can provide a bit of cover.
And they all go straight into the team for our final friendly with Hillingdon! I’ve got to say, I feel something approaching pretty good about where we are right now. Are these emotions that regular people have?
I need a cold shower after our first goal as Cabrera bursts down the left and puts in what can only be described as a sexual far-post cross for Danny Williams to nod home. Sharpe and Windross combine for the latter to make it two on 22, then Hillingdon striker Michael Carroll — Long Shots 1 — scores a 25-yard raker to reduce the score to 2–1 at the break.
I make 11 changes at half time, we score a third through Mark Booth after a lovely team move, then another textbook concession brings it back to 3–2, and that’s how the game finishes. Seriously, most of the goals we concede come from that same formula: my GK tries to go long, the other team win the header, and suddenly my entire defence is out of position while our opponents swarm forward for an overload. It happens all the time despite me telling our goalkeepers to pass short and distribute to defenders. I’m not sure what to do about it other than pulling my defensive line all the way back as deep as it’ll go — which, to be honest, is something I often do in the lower leagues anyway to stop balls over the top catching us out ten times a game.
Nevertheless, it’s a final morale-boosting win before our opener against Weston-super-Mare in a week’s time!
We reach August 13th, or “Work Permit Disappointment Day” as I’ll be calling it from now on, and all my potential South American superstars have their dreams of living in East London dashed by those heartless jobsworths at immigration. It’s a shame, since after my success with Cabrera and Elcock I did have a glimmer of hope that at least one of them might make it through, but never mind. We’ve got a decent squad as it is, we’ll try to get some Ws on the board, some money in the bank, and go again in January. Half their contracts expire in the winter anyway, so you can bet your bottom dollar I’ll have my bottom dollar ready to offer them as soon as the time comes.
And so, we move on to preparations for Weston-super-Mare. In truth, I can’t do much more to prepare — pre-season tells me I’ve got a decent keeper, good full-backs, reliable centre-halves, a pretty dynamic central midfield, good wingers, a very strong target man and a nippy strike partner who can run the channels. I understand that this is a vastly optimistic way of looking at a squad I’ve cobbled together for £22k, but I really think there’s some genuine quality out there. We just need Corderoy to stop hoofing his clearances straight to their centre-mids and we might have half a chance.
There’s a whiff of expectation in the air as we stride through the gates at Woodspring Park. Expectation and burgers. The Horchurch Ultras are mingling outside, scarves and beers at the ready, excited about the start of a new campaign, and are confidently asking each other who I am. Well guys, for better or for worse, you’re about to find out.
WSM have some decent players, including free-kick specialist and moonwalking man-about-town Michael Jackson in centre-mid, and they start far better, rattling the inside of the post and having two other clear-cut chances in the first 25 minutes. We look shaky, and barely have control of the ball — I switch the highlights from Key to Extended in the hope I can see a bit more of what’s going wrong.
Lawless breaks through midfield and beats three WSM players on his way to firing just over, which begins a period of good play from your mighty Urchins. Danny Williams does well to win a corner that Windross heads just over, then they repeat the trick — but the second time, Windross’s header is deflected out for another corner. The third time, Windross wins his far-post header again, but Northmore makes a tremendous save in the home nets to deny him. Great period of pressure, but it’s zeroes at the break.
The second half starts, and we should be 2–0 up. First Lawless puts a ball over the top that Windross latches onto but Northmore makes a disgustingly good save, and then literally seconds later, Cabrera pulls the same trick to put Ronnie Green 1v1 with his defender. He turns him inside out, bears down on Northmore, but the WSM stopper pokes out a toe and deflects the shot wide for a corner. Unreal goalkeepering, but we are firmly on top after a shaky start.
Lee Sharpe floats the corner at the far post towards Windross, he rises… and is hauled down! Dave Hunt the offender, and it’s penalty Hornchurch!!
Sharpe puts the ball down on the spot, gathering all his years of experience and channelling it through his left boot…
GOAL GOAL GOAL GOAL GOAL HORNCHURCH! Lee Sharpe scores the first competitive goal of my tenure, and we’re a goal up in Somerset!
Unfortunately, from that point on, we don’t just have a mare — we have a Weston-SUPER-Mare, thanks. The goal galvanises not us but them, and suddenly they’re everywhere. I notice that they’ve changed formation to 4–2–4, throwing everyone forward to try to nab an equaliser, so I bring Peglis into midfield to add a bit of what I hope will be steel. Unfortunately WSM are a hot torch of attacking verve and they roar towards our penalty area, hitting shots from all over the place that, thankfully, Corderoy handles comfortably.
A highlight opens up, and we lose the ball high on the right. A single long ball forward, and suddenly Elcock is 4v1 against onrushing WSM forwards. What is going on? Where are my other defenders? Why are they so high?! I’VE TOLD YOU TO STAY DEEP!
Naturally there’s no defending against this, and even though the man with the ball, O’Hagan, fires his shot straight at Corderoy, he can only spill it to the feet of striker David Gilroy to tap into an empty net for 1–1 in the 88th minute. There are many things here that I don’t understand, but I’m very familiar with the deep feeling of aggrievance that’s coursing through me.
However, as the game ticks into its death throes, an apparent miracle unfolds. Sarge crunches Gilroy in midfield and lays off for Sharpe to put the ball long towards Windross. He charges down the left, spots Green at the far post, and sets himself to cross. I realise I haven’t breathed in what feels like ten minutes as Windross scuffs the ball in, it’s floating… Northmore doesn’t come! It reaches Green at the far post! It’s an open goal for Green! SURELY!!
Green takes about seven touches and then smashes the ball straight into Northmore and out for a corner. How the clustering F — K have you not scored there, honestly. Honestly.
I’m giving myself a chinese burn as the final whistle blows, and I’m straight down the tunnel, out the front door, and off to the nearest gutter to drown my sorrows. We weren’t the best team on the day, I actually think the game was pretty even all things considered, but my goodness, we had some golden chances to win here and we didn’t take them. I know I should focus on the encouraging performance and good signs for the future, but right now I need to be alone with my thoughts and seventeen warm pints.
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