retired_marcias

Thanks. Bit slow with the updates, but it has more longevity already than my last umpteen story attempts! Apart from Lebanon updates the rest has been off the top of my head so I'm reaching the point where I'm in danger of confusing myself, let alone the readers so I'll have to refer back to the game itself for the next posts :p

retired_marcias

“Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising I came singing into the sun, sword unsheathing. To hope's end I rode and to heart's breaking: Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!” - Eomer, Lord of the Rings

Ayr United and Glasgow Celtic fans aside (ok so probably plenty of others as well, but let's not burst the bubble), the Scottish football public at large were excited by the progress of Kilmarnock over the previous few years. The SPL had become a 1 horse "race" for far too long now apart from a brief season of brilliance by Heart of Midlothian some years back. Glasgow Rangers had somewhat fallen by the wayside so Glasgow Celtic were sweeping all before them in a merciless charge season upon season. Down at Cappielow Park we didn't care all that much what Celtic were doing, we had smaller fish to fry and, apart from providing them with 3 points at regular intervals, Celtic's impact on us was pretty minimal - we only ever played them 3 times per season in the league since we were still to break into that coveted top 6.

Thus the 2011 and 2012 title races involving Kilmarnock had mildly excited a nation, albeit with the ultimately boring outcome of yet another triumph for Celtic. Heading into the 2012/3 season Kilmarnock's fans were full of optimism after their successful elavation to the 2nd best team in the country. Now was generally though to be the time for that final step. At the very least it was about time the club should win a trophy of some description. So whilst we toiled our way to another bottom half of the table finish at Cappielow, Kilmarnock's players played themselves well and truly into the history books. As in previous seasons the spine of the team was absolutely superb - Scott Cuthbert weighed in with a double figure goal tally yet again, but it was his defending that drew all the plaudits and established him as a regular in the international team. Nick Montgomery was as tenacious and tigerish as ever he was, striding about the midfield as though it were his back garden. Up front Killie again failed to satisfactorily find a consistent 2nd striker, but it didn't matter - those who did play there each had spells when they fed off the continual knock-downs from the majestic Jordan Rhodes.

No-one could really argue with claims that Rhodes in particular and Kilmarnock in general were rather 1-dimensional, but what a dimension! If it ain't broke don't fix it, or something like that...on a few occasions, notably against Celtic's towering centre-backs, Kilmarnock's football looked unimaginative as the ~30 headers that Jordan Rhodes regular won in other games was reduced to single figures, leaving the rest of the team floundering in their attempts to get creative. It isn't that Killie play long ball football, they don't, but they do rely on Rhodes heavily as a vital weapon in their arsenal. Charlie would always claim that his team played direct football, not long ball football and I would grudgingly have to agree - they were no "punt and hope" team, they just lacked a little in creativity at times.

I am getting bogged down in minutiae though, putting off the reporting of the inevitable as long as I reasonably can. In a nutshell, Kilmarnock were just totally and utterly awesome for a whole season. They did themselves credit in the UEFA cup before going down in flames at Chelsea and in the domestic cups they sidled, coasted and edged their way through to two more finals. The final whistle in the league cup final heralded the end of a near 8 year wait for Charlie as his charges finally won the trophy they had so desperately wanted. That was just the starter though, Charlie wanted the league title as his main course and the FA Cup title as dessert. The latter would, out of obvious necessity, go right down to the wire in the final game of the season.

The former relied on Kilmarnock's players keeping their heads, unlike their previous attempts. As the club pulled 10 points clear of Glasgow Celtic heading into the New Year, the Scottish public watched and waited for them to collapse again. Into March they were still waiting as Kilmarnock tore through the SPL like a hot knife through butter. It was perhaps fitting that it was against Celtic that the (now inevitable) finale was played out. The thumping win for Killie sent their fans into new found sensations of delight for which they could not find words. Kilmarnock had finally won the league title after a wait of over 50 years since their previous solitary triumph. And what a way to do it - usually they headed into the split at 33 games with nerves fraying as they tried to keep their faltering hopes alive. This time they sidled into the split 18 points clear and with the title already won.

Come the final match of the season there was something inevitable about Kilmarnock winning the FA cup final. So inevitable was it that I can't even remember who their opponents were. I could look it up, but why bother? They were just there to make up the numbers, this was Kilmarnock's moment. After such a long wait for a trophy the club had surpassed even it's wildest dreams by winning the domestic treble. Football just didn't get any better than this for Charlie. On the phone to me regularly over the following summer he was bubbling with enthisiasm and impatience for the new season to get underway and for Kilmarnock to become the dominant force in Scottish football. His summer signings included some notable names, not least World Cup winner Kim Kuusela, signed from Derby County. Players and fans alike were brimming with excitement too at the prospects for the new season and a new dawn at Kilmarnock.

Less than 12 months later, Charlie was gone, never once looking back as he strode down the street from Rugby Park for the last time with nothing but shattered dreams behind him. Kilmarnock were a club in crisis as what was possibly the worst title "defence" in SPL history lurched towards a sorry conclusion...

retired_amyslack

Nice to see that this one still has legs Glam and looking forward to following along :thup:

retired_jgirl87

Worth waiting for, glamdring. Just keep trotting out the updates every now and then. :thup:

retired_marcias

It should still have legs for a while :thup: I'm a couple of seasons down the line in game time from even the most advanced section of the story and I hope to finish the season I have just started too. Possibly more depending on how disgruntled I get with FM 08 (very, so far!)

Thanks for the words of encouragement

retired_marcias

Kilmarnock...the winter of discontent

The winter of 2014 was one of the coldest and most severe on record. Gale force winds swept in off the North Sea to batter the east of Scotland. In the west snow fell steadily, enveloping everything in its path, coating the Ayrshire countryside in a deep and perfect whiteness, the spell broken only by man, toiling to keep the cogs of the 21st century world turning. Some said it was inevitable after the long Indian Summer that stretched through the preceeding October when people were to be seen sunbathing on the beaches of even the most outlying of the Hebrides.

At Rugby Park the mood seemed inextricably linked to the weather, locked in a deadly embrace from which neither manager nor players could shake the club. Thus, during the early weeks of the season Kilmarnock's title winners played the stuff of champions, oozing confidence as they swept opponents aside with effortless ease to move some 5 points clear atop the SPL after 10 games. No-one doubted that they were serious title contenders, that having won their first title in 50 years they had every intention of defending it to the death. Sure Celtic would fight back and no doubt setup a grand finale to the title race after their humiliation of the previous season, but there could be no question of Kilmarnock not being there or there abouts again. True some of the fancy new signings were not really gelling, but if you can win games whilst still bedding in new signings of obvious individual quality the portents for the rest of the division are ominous to say the least.

Falkirk away saw a change in the weather. Gusts of wind swirled inland from the Firth of Forth, bringing squals of rain and a sudden drop in the temperature. The Indian summer was over and increasing velocity of the wind soon began to crumble the Kilmarnock edifice. Falkirk were a team without stars, a team who battle relegation season on season, a team who should have been cannon fodder for the Kilmarnock artillery, but it was not so. An insipid and uninspiring performance from the champions saw them return to Ayrshire with a flea in their ear and no points. In itself this was not a crisis, Kilmarnock had been on brilliant unbeaten streaks before, but in general they were not a team who just steamrollered everyone without losing a game. They would bounce back as they had done after losing games in previous seasons. Or so we all thought...

As the snow began to fall unseasonably early Kilmarnock became mired in a truly horrendous run of form. No Scottish football fan or jouranlist could quite believe what they were seeing. True Kilmarnock have no pedigree for producing regular title winning teams, but the assured confidence with which this group of players had begun the season had firmly hinted that times were changing. 15 games later, with the New Year having been ushered in by yet more howling winds and a cacophony of thunder and accompanied lightening, not to mention the omnipresent snow and sleat, Kilmarnock were a club as low on confidence as they had been for many a long year, still searching for their first win since before that fateful day in Falkirk. Weekly glances at the table showed the gradual erosion of Kilmarnock's once impressive league position. Some weeks they would cling on to their league position for another 7 days, other weeks they would drop some 2 or 3 places through a closely packed bunch of clubs. Ultimately they dropped as low as 9th place before finally picking up that much needed win.

Over at Cappielow we were riding our luck as we looked to finally make the break through into the coveted top 6 after a summer of exciting signings, but I think that should wait until the next chapter of this story. For now it is enough to say that we were enjoying our usual roller-coaster ride all the more since not only were we improving markedly on the inconsistency of previous seasons, we also found ourselves sitting higher in the league table than our rivals down the road at Rugby Park. Not a huge amount higher it is true and it did not last once Kilmarnock finally refound some form, but we were nonetheless fighting tenaciously in the mid table melee of teams which did include Killie as the season headed towards that all important 33-game split...

retired_marcias

The SPL and beyond - a stromash of bad and good

The top four were away. Glasgow Celtic, stung into action by the humiliation of the previous season were in no mood to mess around as they moved emphatically to win back the title they felt was rightly theirs. Behind them Heart of Midlothian battled with a hugely impressive St. Johnston side for much of the season in an attempt to grab second spot, whilst Dundee United smoothly followed before launching themselves past a faltering St. Johnstone to grab 3rd. So with the 33-game split approaching the top 4 teams were locked in, leaving the rest of the pack to scrap over the final 2 places.

With the Kilmarnock oil tanker having finally been turned it soon became clear that only 1 place was up for grabs as Killie put together enough form to secure 5th with a couple of games to spare. Behind them was a veritable stromash as Glasgow Rangers, Hibernian, Aberdeen and Greenock Morton desparately scrabbled around to put themselves 'over the top' and into that oh so important 6th place. With the mid-table so close everyone knew that the team who finished 6th would quite likely have fewer points than even the team who finished 8th or 9th, but points no longer matter once the league is cloven in two.

Form was patchy, tension high amongst the 4 teams involved. None of them seemed to have that killer instinct to take the bull by the horns and make the decisive move. It was this ponderous lack of activity that had allowed Kilmarnock to leap out of the group and make their bid for freedom, but no-one had followed. No, as the moment of truth grew near it was Aberdeen who made the move, with Hibs having shot their bolt. Rangers and Morton cancelled each other out in a dour head to head which left Rangers out of the picture in 7th and Aberdeen perched in 6th with 33 games played. However, that was not the end of the story for whilst Aberdeen & Rangers had played their final cards 8th placed Greenock Morton had not. European commitments and the general vagueries of fixture re-arrangements meant that Morton faced a do or die midweek trip to Rugby Park to take on a Kilmarnock side who were already looking to 4th placed St. Johnstone.

I should pause briefly here to give the reader a taste of what might have been for Kilmarnock. Their 15 game winless streak had gone down in SPL folklore, the moment the champions lost their bottle and fell to pieces. In Europe too they struggled to shake off the effects of that disastrous league run as Malmo took 4 points and Porto 6 in their champions league group. There were 2 moments though that will live long in the memories of Killie fans. In the midst of that appalling run, a dejected Kilmarnock team headed to the Camp Nou to take on the mighty Barcelona. There could surely be only 1 result and yet Kilmarnock defended tenaciously, took a shock lead and played as though their lives depended on it. Barca eventually equalised but the 1-1 draw was a fantastic result. Not only that, but it sat very neatly with the brilliant 1-0 win that Kilmarnock had achieved over the same opponents in their earlier group match. Just how does a team play so badly against Falkirk and Dunfermline and yet take 4 points of one of the giants of European football?

As a footnote, Barcelona took the runners-up spot in the group behind Porto, thus allowing Inter Milan, outclassed in the San Siro by Derby County, to play and beat the Portuguese champions whilst Barcelona faced Derby County. It is a measure of Kilmarnock's achievement that Barcelona were to triumph in the knock-out tie against arguably the second best football team in the world (Arsenal's astounding record of Champions League success clearly places them top). For Adam's Derby it was gut-wrenching. They had lost, as usual, their opening group match at home to Inter, but had then looked like world beaters in winning the next 5. Champions League under-achievement was becoming a hallmark of Adam's Derby County career though - maybe because it was always his 3rd priority trophy behind the league and the league cup, maybe just because they were never good enough when it mattered.

retired_marcias

Kilmarnock - Somehow it was always inevitable

Back in Scotland we travelled the short distance to Rugby Park knowing that this was one of the biggest games in our history. Anything other than a victory and we would be condemned yet again to a bottom half finish. We just went for it and were rewarded with a 0-1 lead, but Kilmarnock soon took control, equalised and then dominated the rest of the game. Allan Jenkins was having none of it though. Ageing he may now be, a peripheral figure at times during the season, but he was a Scot, he had passion and he had been a great servant for Greenock Morton. Into the 89th minute he picked up the ball in the centre circle, took a few strides forward and lashed an unstopable shot into the back of the Kilmarnock net. Up in Aberdeen fans watched in disbelief, while in the pubs of Greenock all hell broke lose. We had done it! Against all the odds we had finally taken that step, we had secured a top 6 finish.

The next 4 games were not especially interesting. We found a bit of form and closed in on 5th as Kilmarnock faltered, but St. Johnstone had comfortably wrapped up 4th place. It was the final game that would provide the excitement as yet again Morton would travel to Rugby Park, but this time it mattered hugely to both teams. A win for Morton this time would see them cheekily leapfrog Kilmarnock at the last possible moment to snatch 5th place. Already Kilmarnock had to face up to the fact that this would be their worst finish since Charlie took over 9 years previously. Coming as it did after so superb a season the year before the mood at Rugby Park was black.

Nevertheless, when the news broke on the eve of the final game of the season the Scottish football-watching public were stunned. Some said it was reminiscent of Kevin Keegan's dramatic departure from Newcastle, others attempted to sound clever by claiming it was no surprise. Charlie Fox, the most successful manager in Kilmarnock's history, hero-worshipped less than 12 months earlier had walked out on the club. A confusion of reports followed, questions where asked whether he really walked or whether he was pushed. I knew for sure, for he phoned me in tears as he walked down the road that evening, away from Rugby Park. In his heart he said he knew it was the right decision, but to walk away from the club he loved after 9 wonderful years had left him totally broken...

He came round that night, partly to avoid the press who were clamouring to interview him, mostly to drown his sorrows. We had always wound each other up, poked fun at each other and generally mocked each other's love for rival clubs, but deep down there was a strong brotherly bond and as he walked in off the cold dark street that night I could see he was hurting, more than I had ever seen him hurt. I couldn't know what he was going through. The idea of walking out on Greenock Morton was one I have never even considered and I don't think I ever would. There had to be a very very good reason why he would walk out on the club he had adored since he was a boy, since he had stood on those Rugby Park terraces so many years ago.

Like everyone who followed football I had heard the chants, from a section of the Kilmarnock fans, of "Fox out, Fox out!", but all managers face that from time to time. With just 1 game left of the season it seemed certain the board would not choose to sack Charlie and I knew he was confident he would turn it around and challenge again for the title next season. Charlie was a man of the people though, honourable to a fault, full of integrity, he longed to be loved, he wanted nothing more than to serve the people of Kilmarnock and deliver them a dashing brand of winning football. That a sizeable section of those fans no longer wanted him had struck like a dagger through the heart. Less emotional men would have rode it out and waited either for the sack or the turnaround, but not Charlie. His adoring public had turned against him and that was all that mattered. He had once told me that if the fans no longer wanted him then he would do the decent thing and walk away, and he had now done exactly that. How long it would take him to recover from his depression I didn't know, but one thing was for sure - the press would not be hounding my brother, not in his current state...

retired_marcias

Derby County...3rd time lucky or another botched attempt?

It is high time our time travelling took us back (or is it forwards...?!) to 2015/16 where Derby County have just dispatched arch-rivals Arsenal in a televised goal-fest. The general consesus was that Arsenal were out of the title race now, that Astom Villa were the only team who could realistically stop Derby. At Pride Park though, despite the air of triumph from the result at the Emirates Stadium, Adam was still only very cautiously optimistic. Derby's poor form of earlier in the season was still very much at the forefront of his mind. Arsenal's late season charge the previous season and Derby's subsequent penultimate game collapse was still in his mind. Two seasons in a row Arsenal had pipped Derby to the title because Derby just couldn't hold their form when it really mattered.

2015/16 was different though. Arsenal were looking decidedly sluggish and, for once, they had been broken. Their successes in the Premiership and, even more so, in the Champions League in recent seasons undoubtably cements Arsenal's position as the best team in Europe, possibly the world, but this season they had been broken and there would be no dramatic comeback this time...at least not for the title. Aston Villa on the other hand were a tenacious irritant to the Midlands rivals. Not only were they still mathematically in the title race, they were becoming very real challengers and fans at both clubs were beginning to bite their fingernails as the end neared.

As ever, Adam was on the phone to me regularly, either discussing my progress at Morton or his hopes and fears for Derby. He is a manager who backs his players 100%, but yet is never confident that his team will ultimately achieve their goals. Only in one Premiership season out of 6 so far had Derby actually crossed the finishing line in good form. On every other occasion they had suffered a late collapse. Such history does not breed confidence in a nervous manager. What did breed confidence, however, was Derby's performances on the pitch. Victory followed victory as the lads dug deeper and deeper. Like a pair of boy racers in a death defying motor race towards the edge of a cliff, Derby and Villa sped towards the finishing line wondering who would have the nerve to brake the latest.

In the end Aston Villa just couldn't cope with the relentlessness of Derby's end of season form. There was to be no collapse this time, at least not from Derby County. There was just a metronomic ticking off of fixtures until, suddenly, with Villa starting to drop points, Derby found themselves needing just 1 win for the title and secured it at the first attempt. 3 years of hurt were over at last. 2 years of that hated Arsenal team getting the better of Adam's Derby team were over. Revenge was sweet. It was almost even sweeter as Arsenal travelled to Chelsea on the final day of the season, facing the very real possibility of finishing outside of the top 4. Alas, they rose to the occasion, won and finished in 3rd.

And so, a monumental season at Pride Park was almost over...almost. Derby had joined a select group of teams to win the domestic treble, but they had the chance to now achieve that glorious quadruple that no team had yet managed. Derby's first Champion's League final under Adam's tutelage awaited. Predictably, inevitably, as if it was always destined to be so, their opponents would again be Arsenal, the club who seemed to be in the final every season, but who, in recent years had tended to fall at that final hurdle. The build-up was, as ever, over the top, with talk of one of the best finals for years, between the two best pure footballing teams in the world.

Hype, hype and yet more hype. Few matches ever live up to such hype and this was no exception. Sure, there were goals, but the much anticipated fireworks never came. Instead Derby County wilted, in the glare of millions of people across Europe and the world, they just couldn't raise themselves for one last game in a long long season. Many blamed the tactics and you could see their point. Since the 2nd season in the Premiership Adam had been uncompromising in his view that he wanted Derby to play stylish football, above all else. Never once did he use a target-man, never one did he ask even a single player to play direct or long balls. Every single match in every competition of every season Derby played a short passing game relying on the creative genius of a midfield playmaker, either Diego or Jozsef Sandor. Such a lack of flexibility and such a stubborn insistence on trying to out-pass the only other team in the world capable of passing the ball around as well as or better than Derby had cost them before and it did so again.

Arsenal cruised, their fans cheered all match, and the final score of 3-0 did not flatter them. They outclassed Derby from start to finish, leaving Derby's dreams of that great quadruple up in smoke. History will remember the domestic treble, but history does not remember the losing finalists, history does not remember that Derby were one game away from the quadruple. It remembers only that Derby are one of a number of teams to achieve the treble, a special achievement, but not a unique one. Adam was surprisingly upbeat about the defeat though. Unlike most managers he had never considered Europe a to priority. He had won the league which was his top priority every season, he had won the league cup, which was his second priority and he had even bagged the FA cup, his lowest priority trophy. Who cares about Europe? There's always next season.