If you are late to this, you have four episodes to catch up on first. Hurry back…
The discovery of a young Luka Modric is very exciting. I offer my trademark £65 per week, ten-year deal. I also find a young Andrea Barzagli plying his trade at Ascoli with a transfer value of just £35k. Smelling a bargain, I offer £100k and wait to see what happens. I also notice that Teddy Lucic isn’t getting games at AIK for some reason, and he’s becoming unhappy. There’s blood in the water. He’s valued at just £190k, and as a legend of the game, I push that towards them and cross my fingers.
Luton arrive at Nene Park at pretty much the same time we do following our long drive back from Hartlepool, and I’m torn over what to do with my squad. They’ve played so well in the previous two games, especially Mills, Bubb and Ronaldo, it seems cruel to drop them. However, there is some tiredness, so we will rotate. My goalkeeper and back five remain the same, and Bubb keeps his spot, but Ronaldo, Darby, Mills and Farnerud make way for Møller, Ferdinand, Brandon and Pflipsen. That feels good. Let’s give this lot a bloody good wonking.
We make a disastrous start and Luton are all over us. Our only bright point is a second-minute stonewall penalty on Bubb that nobody inside Nene Park can believe is waved away by this useless referee. After that, Luton open the taps and start putting pressure on my creaky back four. Matthew Spring hits an effort that goes in because ‘Pinheiro is badly positioned’ – I put a black mark on my notebook beside his name. Then, on 40 minutes, Pflipsen is forced off injured. We are 1-0 down and we’ve lost our playmaker. Darkness is everywhere. We need a hero.
Sir Leslie Ferdinand heeds my whimpering. Right on the stroke of half-time, Underwood swings in a corner and he rises like a glorious salmon to power a header past Carl Emberson. We come in at half time level at 1-1, but I have concerns. Luton are matching us in every area. I look the lads in the eyes. I give a rousing speech about how much I believe in them and send them back out, my finger hovering over the Tactics button so I can make changes the moment they let me down.
But they don’t. The opposite happens, in fact. Spearheaded by the unplayable Ferdinand, we pepper Emberson with shots. And then, my trusty duo combines once more – Underwood swings in another corner and Sir Les powers home his second header of the game. We are in the ascendency, and Ferdinand’s pedigree is really starting to show. Every time we move forward, my players find him in the box, and only Emberson is keeping him at bay. Luton keep worrying me on the break and I sweat on our slender 2-1 lead, hoping we’ll run down the clock. We reach 88 minutes as Tarkan Mustafa collects a clearance well inside our half, wide on the right. He runs down the line. He continues running. He tries to run past Skelton. He successfully runs past Skelton. He is still running. I wonder how big our pitch is. Suddenly he gets bored of running and instead spanks a ‘speculative’ effort at goal, which flies past Emberson to make the game safe. I slump into my chair, relieved, only to watch Bubb collect the ball from their kick off and do exactly the same thing – jinking through the heart of the Luton defence and driving home a fourth with his left foot in the 90th minute.
It finishes 4-1, and I feel strange. We started appallingly but came back to make the game look very comfortable with two goals right at the death. I guess I’m just not used to this happening to me; I associate all the old CM games with crushing disappointment. Game of two halves, eh lads?
The board are delighted once more, and so am I. Besides our opening howler against Kidderminster, we’ve scored four goals in each of our last three games. Hull have four wins in four and are keeping us from the top of the league, but we’re breathing down their necks.
My offer for Barzagli is knocked back because Ascoli have only just signed him. Fair enough. I keep him shortlisted and decide to go back later rather than be tempted to pay over the odds. However, I notice another one of my shortlisted players has signed a new contract with a £425k release fee…my chequebook twitches in my pocket. Set Pieces 19 is very, very tempting.
Pflipsen’s injury will keep him out for a month, but between Mills and Farnerud, we have options. I feel comfortable, which in turn makes me feel unsettled. You can’t relax for a single moment in this game. I’m knocked back for Teddy Lucic. Bolton and Bradford make bids for my only good coach. See what I mean?
I hit continue and Stockport come in with a £600k offer for Greg Lincoln. Now, I don’t know Stockport boss Andy Kilner. I assume he’s a fair, decent man, but he must also enjoy recreational substances in his spare time. Greg Lincoln is valued at £190k and I’ve put him on the transfer list for £500k. I accept their offer with a polite smirk and start sweating profusely. If we get more than a Les Ferdinand for grumpy Greg, I’ll be the happiest man in Irthlingborough. And I can ask them all. There’s only about 8,000 people that live here.
Modric accepts my generous offer but disaster strikes – he needs a work permit. Of course he does. Croatia won’t join the EU until 2013, and there’s a very high chance I won’t get my man. I cross my fingers that someone in the permits department slips with their pen and in the meantime make provisions to keep him shortlisted for the next 12 years just in case.
Then, further disaster strikes. Grumpy Greg accepts Stockport’s offer. I move to confirm the transfer. It turns out Stockport don’t have the money and ask to delay the transfer by a week. My suspicions about Andy Kilner are confirmed. Since we don’t entertain time wasters in Northamptonshire, I reject their offer and re-slap Lincoln on the list. Blackpool and Hull both immediately appear interested. I await their offers with bated breath.
It’s international week, and both John Convery and Pa Modou Kah are in action for N.Ireland and Norway U21s, respectively. Good lads. Also, we win our first silverware of the season, and it’s richly deserved.
It’s not about me, the players deserve all the plaudits, and so on. Someone order a trophy cabinet from Ikea.
Next up is a trip to Cheltenham. They’re 18th in the league having lost three of their first four games. Their best player, Mark Wilson on loan from Middlesbrough, is injured, but we’ll need to keep an eye on Tony Naylor up front. Keeper Carl Muggleton is their other ‘star’ player which means we are likely to have a frustrating afternoon.
We also have lots of our own problems, namely that Risp, Convery and Kah are all away on international duty. Bad lads. My defence is decimated, I’m forced to start with the original Rushden back four, and even have to call up young Chris Tedder (16, CB) from my reserves to take up a place on the bench. I consider starting him, since Naylor’s main threat is his pace and my current centre-half pairing are slower than erosion, but decide to go for experience over youth. I tell Peters to kick Naylor off the pitch and hope my forward players can outscore the Robins at the other end. I send the players out, clenching forcefully.
I also forget that Cheltenham have CM01/02 legend Mike Duff, who spends the first ten minutes still not signing for me and instead marauding down Underwood’s flank and making last-ditch clearances. Between him and Muggleton, we are being throttled and restricted to half-chances. But I needn’t have worried about Warburton and Peters. They stick the Cheltenham forwards in their tweed pockets and leave the attackers to it. Møller and Ferdinand are imperious, but – as I feared – they can’t beat Muggleton. The game clicks into 45 minutes and I consider my options as the ball is lifted high towards Møller once more, and once more, his ‘simple finish’ is denied by Muggleton. But this time, he spills it just far enough for Brandon to nip in and finish – finally, we break the deadlock. Then, from Cheltenham’s kick off, they give it straight to Ferdinand, who advances down the left and crosses to the far post where Mustafa is standing, for some reason, and we’ve scored a second! The Robins have put the kettle on early and we’ve hit them with the old 1-2. I tear up all my notes telling the players how useless they are and burn them in a bin as they come in for half time. I give them all a hearty thumbs up and send them straight back out.
Brandon’s untracked runs from midfield pay dividends and he makes the game safe early in the second half. It’s 3-0 now, so I put young Tedder on in place of Panzer Warburton and also replace Brandon with Farnerud to keep him fresh. Ronaldo also comes on for Ferdinand and is immediately a nuisance. Cheltenham are battered and defeated, with only Muggleton and Duff offering any sort of resistance, and I almost feel sorry for the two of them as Gary Mills wanders forward in the 90th minute to thunder home a fourth. Almost, but not really.
Yet another game where we’ve scored four goals, and we are surely favourites to go up at this stage. My Nokia 3310 beeps in my pocket – Hull have slipped up at Swansea. Guess who’s top of the league?
Mike Paul – you can employ him as a voice actor and football commentator here