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I liked these new virgin trains, there was something satisfying about hurtling through the countryside in a tube of metal when you knew elsewhere people were stuck in traffic on a motorway. In fact I had always liked trains, ever since I can remember my Dad would get me and my brother up early on a Saturday morning so we could catch a train to wherever the O’s were playing that weekend. Carlisle, Doncaster, Torquay, Barrow-in-Furness on a cold wet November day for the first round proper of the FA Cup. That’s where my fondness of trains began, not to mention my love for what they called ‘the beautiful game’. It sure as hell wasn’t beautiful from where I stood on the terraces.
As the train pulled into Lancaster I reminisced. My playing days were less than illustrious, my main claim to fame scoring a spectacular 30 yard volley which I had sliced and looped past my keeper into my own net. There was little glamour in the bottom divisions, but here I found myself tasked with salvaging a club with no talent, no fans and a shoestring budget. I had been there before, but for Lancaster City I had plans of a more aspirational nature.
The idea had dawned on me whilst on a train no less. Seemingly spending my life on trains I’m never caught without a decent book, it just so happened on that summery July day it was Michael Palins ‘Around the World in 80 Days’. How good would it be to take the boys on a tour? I pondered. The Harlem Globetrotters had done it, albeit they were actually good, but it had brought them fame and fortune through the media and sponsorship. Surely the chairman and board would love some publicity, and money in the bank never hurt anyone. It was a ridiculous idea, but I couldn’t let it go.
I strolled into the boardroom, took a biscuit from the plate, a bourbon of course as the chocolatiness is unrivalled in biscuit terms, and sat down. The table was full of familiar faces with Charlie Moore, the boss, overlooking the proceedings. Finances, ticket prices, marketing, blah, blah, blah. I wasn’t listening, I was running through in my head how to present this ridiculous idea to the board, the best I could hope for was stunned silence, the worst a torrent of laughter, shortly followed by abuse, being handed my P45 and going home to find my wife in bed with my star striker. The nerves were obviously playing on my imagination.
“Right then, anything you wish to add Martin?”, I woke out of my daydream,
“Who…Me… Oh, Yeah, Right. Well I was thinking I could assemble some of the boys together and take them on tour”
“A pre-season tour”, Charlie interjected, “excellent idea, the lads would love a trip to Scotland”
“Erm, well no not exactly, I was thinking more the world, you know like Europe and Asia and places…” the words were failing me and to make matters worse my star striker was stroking my wife again, “That’s it, he’s dropped for the next game” I muttered into the stunned silence of the room.
“Pardon?”
“I was thinking maybe I could take the boys on a footballing trip round the world, I have an old friend who would put up the money, I could take some of the reserve and youth boys to avoid the league games, it would be great for the profile of the club, we might even get some good sponsorship money out of it…” I babbled in the hope someone would put me out of my misery.
“Lancaster City, World Tour, I like it” Charlie piped up after short reflection, “You have my full backing… none of my money, but my full backing, meeting adjourned.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, grabbed another bourbon biscuit and rushed home just to make sure my wife had no footballers’ sweaty hands on her.
“Hi Chris, how are you mate?... Yeah, good thanks. You remember that time when I was over there and I took your mum for that hospital appointment because you couldn’t make it… yep that’s the one, well I need a favour from you.”
Chris had a marginally more illustrious playing career than myself, no 30 yard own goals, but had spent many years running up the wings of the Dutch Eredivisie earning far more than myself. He had money to burn, and really wasn’t doing much with his retirement. We went a long way back, playing for the same youth side when he used to live in England, we had stayed in contact, even managing a game against each other whilst he was on loan here, not to mention the arsehole married my sister. Perfect assistant manager quality I had decided.
“How’s the old investments going?... Still driving that Porsche?... Glad to hear it, so then, fancy funding a round the world footballing tour, I’ll let you drive the mini-bus.”
Chris was never going to say no, he loved football more than life itself, but it took more persuading than usual, apparently taking someones mum for a hospital appointment doesn’t equal a few hundred thousand pounds, whether you are rich or not.
“So I’ll pick you up from Manchester Airport tomorrow evening and we can assemble a squad? Great, say hi to the wife and kids for Uncle Martin, see you soon”
I knew the players quite well, although my short spell at Lancaster City had not given me much time to chop and change. Chris on the other hand was new to this managing lark, but if I’m honest he was a far better coach than myself and immediately took a shine to the boys.
“If I’m honest Martin, they’re abysmal, but I guess that’s why you’re not in the premiership.”
“Thanks Chris, very constructive, is there any hope or do we need some new faces, bearing in mind we have no money in the kitty”
“I think this lot will do a job, but if we aren’t up to it, we’ll pick up new faces along the way.”
The squad was a mixture of old and young but with no stand out talent, Chris and I decided this would be the squad to start with, but we knew players would come for the glory, and drop out because of the homesickness.
Goalkeepers:
Ryan Yeomans, 20 years, GK, England Young and inexperienced he’s the only one we’ve got. I just hope his eccentricity makes up for his total lack of knowledge and tactical ability.
Mickey Spence, 16 years, GK, England I think he told his mum he is going on a school trip, well played lad, that’s the spirit. Shows promise but at that age he’s got an awful long way to go.
Goalkeeping Overview: We’re thin on the ground and what we have got is highly suspect, will be hopeful to get some experience through the door.
Defenders:
Steve Winne, 18 years, DR, England Winnie as he is more commonly known used to play for Everton. Good positional ability but he is a weed of a man, going to have to get him on those weights.
David Bayliss, 30 years, DC, England The league experience we need, lacking in pace but good in the air he spent 10 years in leagues one and two.
Iain Swan, 26 years, DC, Scotland Apparently can down 2 litres of Irn Bru in 30 seconds, well at least he has some talent. Hard working but his vision and passing could be outdone by my grandma.
Michael Taylor, 23 years, DC, England Our man mountain in defence, what he lacks in pace he should make up for in pure stature, hopefully will cut out any long balls.
Danny Ryan, 24 years, D/WB L, England Technically very poor very poor but with no other left backs in the side he will be first name on the sheet and first to be replaced once someone better comes in.
Neil Uberschar, 25 years, D/WB/AM R, England Ubs will run up and down that wing all day long, a good dribbler of the ball if he learnt how to cross it he would be playing at a higher level.
Defensive Overview: The centre backs are slow which will mean we will have to defend deep and rely on their heading ability. The full backs are thin on the ground and not at all impressive, definite room for improvement.
Midfielders:
Ryan Elderton, 22 years, DM, England Good tackling and marking should mean he will be able to break down the oppositions attacks.
Scott Greenwood, 19 years, DM, England A promising player his passing ability should be asset in the middle of the park.
Anton Lally, 29 years, DM, England More of a means of scaring the opponent, Lally is your typical thug player, shaven head, ugly and with a temperament to match, would be great if he could actually play football.
Tom Gray, 23 years, MC, England A heartthrob with the ladies, his dancing is better than his football and that says a lot.
Jimmy Kelly, 33 years, MC, England The wise man I hope the young ones will look up to. Kelly started in the league playing with Wolves before some loan stints and a drop into non-league. Hopefully his experience will shine through.
Jordan King, 23 years, MC, England Flair, creativity, anticipation and cockiness in abundance, with none of the ability to go with it. Will most likely be found in a heap on the floor having attempted a bicycle kick and missed by a mile.
Mickey Mellon, 34 years, MC, Scotland Practically needs a walking stick these days. Mellon is my player coach and I hope he will keep the rest on their toes.
Kyle Baxter, 16 years, AM R, England Back-up winger. I am on orders to post him back first class to his mum the minute I don’t need him any more.
Lee Dodgson, 22 years, AM RL, England His versatility is an asset, his technical ability is not.
Lee Foxcroft, 20 years, AM/F C, England Good passer of the ball, but will crumble in front of goal and most likely sky the ball.
Midfield Overview: The centre of midfield looks okay on paper. The wingers look lightweight and without that all important ability to cross the ball, and injury in that area will also force me to play narrow.
Strikers:
Ryan Zico Black, 24 years, AM/F C, Northern Ireland Not quite the player his namesake may suggest he is. Zicos agility and pace are let down by poor finishing, but he can hit the set pieces.
Ben Jones, 23 years, ST, England Looks poor but managed 6 goals in 22 appearances in the Conference North for Harrogate last season, might bag a couple.
Paul Moss, 15 years, ST, England I’m pretty sure I’m breaking some laws taking him on tour. His mum seemed happy enough though, something about spending child benefit on cigarettes and vodka.
Lee Spike, 26 years, ST, England Better finishing and heading than my other options, but unlikely to be that magic 20 goal a season striker all managers long for.
Forwards Overview: When none of your strikers can hit a barn door you know you’re in trouble. We will be on the lookout for a better finisher.
The squad looked thin, but with time running short Chris and I decided we would have to make do with what we had and stay on the lookout for any talent out there. It wasn’t an impossibility, as long as we were within a short flight of home we could still bring people in. To round out the travelling party Chris, I and physio Wayne Gill would be supervising this unruly mob.
We rolled out of Lancaster heading for the Capital on an early train, the squad was in high spirits but it didn’t take long for squabbles to break out.
“Oi, Gaffer, doesn’t a straight beat two pair”,
“Come off it, trying to fleece me out of money, you pikey”,
“Come on then, I’ll have you, outside right now”.
I was always a true believer that to be any good on the pitch you at least had to have a certain level of intelligence off of it, inviting someone to go outside for a fight on a moving train doesn’t bode well.
Michael Palin, and indeed Jules Vernes fictional character Phileas Fogg before him, had both started their journeys at the Reform Club on Pall Mall. The idea was to follow their journeys as closely as possible, but ultimately two weeks on a ship wasn’t going to get me too many football games, so Chris and I agreed to go where the football takes us, as long as it was in the general direction everything would just slot into place. To my knowledge they don’t have a football pitch out the back of the Reform Club so I was left to look a little further afield for out first game. I looked at the map and decided the closest club to Pall Mall was Chelsea, now that would be a start. I enquired about having a bit of a kick around, but apparently Jose said a crushing defeat at the hands of the mighty Lancaster would not be good for morale this early in the season. Fulham also couldn’t spare us 90 minutes, something about messing about on the river. So it was I looked south of the river to kick things off, Hampton & Richmond Borough were to be our glamorous opponents on the first game of our world tour. I could tell the boys were excited with our opposition.
Public transport in London is fine as long as you know where you’re going and haven’t got a squad of 30 or so footballers to usher onto a bus. I was worried about some of the young ones, not so much that they’ll miss home or not be able to cope with pressures of travel, but more that somewhere along the way they are bound to get drunk, naked and arrested and that I’ll have to take the responsibility and get them off their death sentence. We walked up to the Beveree Stadium, my delusions of grandeur were shattered.
“Gaffer, I think I’ve forgotten my shin pads”
“For Gods sake Winnie, we’re going on a round the world tour to play football, you know that game where you kick the ball round the pitch, have to get it in the oppositions goal, yet you manage to forget your shin pads. Just for the record, I’m not your Mum and I sure as hell ain’t gunna dress you in the morning, borrow someones spare pair”
The ref blew for kick off and our adventure had truly begun. We looked lethargic, a few too many pints over summer perhaps. Hampton & Richmond gave us a few warnings in the first few minutes as a couple of chances flew wide of Yeomans’ post, but 8 minutes in first blood was ours. Ryan took a throw in on the left flank, received it back only to whip in a cross which Jones somehow managed to rise above four defenders at the front post and nod in. 1-0, and that all important first goal on the road. The relief was short lived as just 3 minutes later our defence stood and watched a through ball, which their nippy striker Green latched onto, Yeomans managed to parry the shot but only as far as Styles who passed into the open net. The pressure was compiled further when Green slipped through the offside trap in an almost copycat move to put us behind. Green got his second only 27 minutes into the game when Yeomans poor clearance left him clean through. 3-1 down and this was not the start any of us had envisaged. An awful offside decision saved our blushes when the flag went up for a perfectly onside Green goal but Green completed his inevitable hattrick when his pace once again left him clean through and Yeomans let the ball trickle through his legs. 4-1 at half time left me fuming in the dressing room but I felt powerless to do anything.
It took Hampton & Richmond 15 minutes to break our back line after the break. A long ball should have been routinely taken by Yeomans but the 20 year old keeper stuck rooted to his line allowing substitute Bird to head home from 2 yards out. 5-1. Hampton & Richmond added their 6th on 79 minutes as an unchallenged corner met the head of Reid and nestled in the top corner. I took Yeomans off before he began to cry, and freshened up the strike force with Zico coming off for Spike. Just to add to the enormity of the task I faced trying to forge these no hopers into world beaters Dodgson headbutted one of the opponents, and walked off the pitch without even waiting for the card. At this point I was seriously considering putting this bunch of useless expletives back on the train up North, but the last 10 minutes saw our best passage of play, still to no avail. Referee Andy D’Urso blew up for full time but Chris and I had already got a cab to take us to the cheapest place to drown our sorrows. Maybe with intoxication we would forget what a stupid idea this whole thing was.
I had booked our ferry crossing and also managed to hire a coach from a decidedly dodgy firm who said we could take it as far as the driver was willing to go. I wasn’t bothered about the state of the coach, I was more hopeful that the driver was David Beckhams brother who, despite being more talented, gave up football to persue a career in aeronautical engineering but having failed his degree applied to become a coach driver, like you do. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case and Dave was in fact fat and lacking in personal hygiene, two qualities that any self respecting coach driver should not be without.
We had arranged our second game by phone the day before, Folkestone Invicta were to be our opponents. Thinking ahead Chris and I had also managed to arrange our trip across France with games against Calais and Reims. The ball was rolling and although our footballing confidence had taken a beating morale was still high.
The south coast was less than spectacular, but there was something romantic about seeing the white cliffs as so many embarking on journeys had done before. I spent the afternoon in a café whilst the boys went off and enjoyed what little time in England they had left. Danny Ryans girlfriend had come down to see him for a last goodbye, I had my suspicions that he would be too worn out to play a game of football tonight, but I can’t blame the guy, she had long brunette hair, legs up to her armpits and breasts you’d just want to curl up and go to sleep in, lucky sod.
Around the World in 80 Games 
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