davidbr

“Come off it, what the f**k was that all about? I know we’re missing quite a few players, but that was f**king pathetic. People actually paid money to watch that, y’know. Christ, it was bad enough for me having to sit through it on the bench but at least I got in for free.”

Yes, we were pretty awful today, but we hadn’t lost, there was that, and at least we had our first away point on the board. And, if someone had offered me a point at the start of the day I’d have probably taken it; Torquay were only relegated from League One last season and they’re among the bookies’ favourites for promotion this time out. I took a deep breath..

“OK, rant over. Let’s put this one behind us, I want an improvement at Swindon in the week though. We’re staying down here overnight, and I’m not one for curfews or any of that crap – but I’d better not hear about any trouble. Hey, smile; we’re at the seaside.”

I turned to Tony; “Come on, I need a drink. Let’s see what the clubs are like.”

“It’s only half-past five, Teddy.”

“So what. Time’s just a number, eh? And after watching that crap I think we’ve earned a few beers.”

davidbr

Wednesday 24th August 2005

Bristol Rovers vs. Swindon Town, League Cup 1st Round from the Memorial Stadium

Bris R (4-2-3-1); Scott Shearer, Souleymane Bamba, Chris Carruthers, Lee Grant, Ryan Hartslief, Johannes Djourou, Jean-Christophe Cesto (Aaron Lescott 45), Sebastian Larsson, Franklin Salas, Dean West.

So a change of formation, then, in an attempt to deal with Swindon’s pace through the middle I’d brought in Jean-Christophe Cesto to play alongside Djourou in the midfield holding role, leaving Franklin Salas to play what was effectively a free role in behind Francesco Milano. Mark Earnshaw wasn’t 100% fit either so that meant a first start of the season for rookie Lee Grant at centre-half.

Swindon are of course a league above us, but for the opening minutes at least you wouldn’t have guessed it as first Franklin Salas and then Johannes Djourou came close with shots that flashed a foot or so wide of the post. Francesco Milano then sent a free header well over the bar from a Salas corner as the chances continued to go begging, and little by little Swindon began to take a grip on the game.

Jamie Cureton had already missed a sitter for the Robins before our luck finally ran out 23 minutes in. Right-back Patrick Collins had been a constant thorn in our side and it was his fine run and inch-perfect cross that was met with an emphatic header by on-loan Man Utd midfielder Colin Heath; Swindon had the lead. Five minutes from the break it was 2-0, this time a slip by Lee Grant let in Jamie Cureton and the former Pirates favourite gave Scott Shearer no chance from 12 yards.

Half time: Bristol Rovers 0, Swindon 2 (Heath 23, Cureton 41)

That second goal seemed to drain the confidence from us, I brought on Aaron Lescott for the tired Cesto at the break but it couldn’t inspire any kind of fightback; Dean West came closest with a 30-yard tester that fizzed just wide of the left-hand post, but Swindon dominated the second period and both Tony Thorpe and Cureton had chances that they’d have felt they should really have taken.

So that was that as far as our League Cup campaign went, I couldn’t pretend it was a priority but given the bright start we’d made I was still bitterly disappointed with the tame way we eventually surrendered, and my players just hadn’t got to grips with the new formation I’d introduced today.

Full time: Bristol Rovers 0, Swindon 2 (Heath 23, Cureton 41)

davidbr

Thursday 25th August 2005

“There’s not a lot we can do about it anyway, it’s a competitive game. Then when we signed him we knew he’d probably be in the squad”

“Guess not. Anyway, we should be proud; I mean, when was the last time Bristol bloody Rovers had someone involved in the World Cup?”

Ratty and I were discussing Franklin Salas, and the fax we’d received through today from the Ecuadorian FA confirming that Franklin had been named in the squad for their World Cup qualifier against Bolivia. It means he’ll miss our game with Mansfield on September 3rd and it’ll be a bit of a bugger to be without him, but should Ecuador win that game they’ll almost certainly qualify for the World Cup Finals and we could have a player in action over in Germany next June!

Since after yesterday’s game quite a few of the players appeared to be very tired, Tony has suggested we call a premature end to today’s training and I was more than happy to agree – it was an unusually hot day for late August and our office doesn’t have any air conditioning. Ratty had business to attend to this afternoon, a meeting with his bank manager about something or another, I needed to get out and I didn’t especially feel like being on my own. I reached for the phone.

“Good afternoon, Evening Post”

“Hi. Can you put me through to Laura Matthews please? It’s Teddy Hamilton.”

“The Bristol Rovers manager?!”

“Yes.” I’d never called her at work before, and I had a feeling I might have just triggered a fair bit of office gossip. She was only a junior reporter in the sports section, in other words not someone who’d be expected to get a call from the boss of a league football club!

“Hold on, Mr Hamilton, I’ll just put you on hold.” Great. Robbie f**king Williams, just what I needed on a sweltering autumn’s day. After what seemed like an eternity, an abrupt male voice came on the line

“Mr Hamilton? Paul Johnson, Sports Editor. What can I do for you?”

“I’ve already told the other girl that. I want to speak to Laura Matthews, please.”

“What about?”

“It’s a personal matter.” This guy was starting to seriously annoy me.

“Sorry, Mr Hamilton, Laura says she doesn’t want to speak to you. Now, unless there’s anything else, I’m a very busy man. Good day to you.”

I was totally baffled, I mean we’d been fine on Tuesday and I couldn’t think of anything I’d done in two days that might have upset her that much. Feeling the anger rising inside me, I grabbed the phone from the desk and hurled it towards the office window; it shattered, sending a shower of glass down onto the car park below. I tried to pull myself together; I had to get out of here or else it’d be raining office furniture.

An hour later, I was leaning against the bar in the Horn and Trumpet nursing a very large glass of whisky and a great deal of confusion. I just didn’t know what was happening to me, I’d never been one to get all gooey over a girl, well, not since … no, that was different, wasn’t it? I was so totally lost in my thoughts, I barely even registered the few autograph-hunters who’d wandered over, or the girl who’d just sat down beside me.

“Hi, you’re Teddy Hamilton, aren’t you?”

“What if I am?”

“I’m Melissa. D’you mind if I join you?”

davidbr

Saturday 27th August 2005

Bristol Rovers vs. Grimsby, League Two from the Memorial Stadium.

Bris R (4-1-4-1); Scott Shearer, Jean-Christophe Cesto (Ali Gibb 71), Sebastian Larsson, Ryan Hartslief, Johannes Djourou, Ryan Williams (Lee Grant 71), Dean West, Jeroen van Staveren, Franklin Salas, Gary Hamilton (Francesco Milano 71).

The build-up to this one had been far from smooth, injuries had forced me into a major reshuffle at the back as well as costing me on-form striker Francesco Milano, but somehow I was just relieved to be able to get my mind back onto the football again.

That relief though didn’t last long, it was clear Grimsby were a class act and their three-pronged attack of Gritton, Palmer and Reddy caused us problems right from the off. Just three minutes in Michael Reddy whistled one inches wide of Scott Shearer’s right-hand post, after 10 minutes midfielder Paul Bolland saw a header from a corner cannon back off the upright and with less than a quarter of an hour on the clock centre half Andy Parkinson, who’d been a colossus at the back, forced a fine save from Shearer with a low right-foot drive.

Dean West sent our best chance of the first half high and horribly wide after a good ball from Jeroen van Staveren, Franklin Salas came within a foot or so from a 30-yard free kick and had Gary Hamilton possessed more than the one brain cell he’d have been clear through thanks to Salas’ excellent defence-splitting pass. Signs of hope? No, as on 43 Gary Jones played in Jermaine Palmer, he side-stepped Sebastian Larsson and buried it past Shearer into the bottom left corner. Grimsby would lead at half time.

Half Time: Grimsby 1 (Palmer 43), Bristol Rovers 0

My half-time team talk consisted of more swear words than you’d get from a Tourette’s sufferer having a very bad day, but it still didn’t seem to have sparked any life into us. For some reason Grimsby eased off on the attack and went back to a 4-4-2, if they’d have kept going they could have murdered us, but Michael Reddy still should have doubled the advantage on 59 when he was put through by Cesto’s slip; he shot high, wide and ugly though, and we lived to fight another day.

Due to all those injuries I’d mentioned options on the bench were limited to say the least, but I knew I had no choice. So, with 20 minutes left I gave the signal, and as part of a triple change the not even half fit Francesco Milano came on to replace the completely brain dead Gary Hamilton. Well, I felt I was due a bit of luck – and I got it.

Firstly, a couple of minutes later Grimsby defender Andrew Ward went in late on Dean West; it wasn’t exactly pretty, but didn’t deserve the red card that referee Sharp was quick to produce. That opened up space for Salas to work in, and eight minutes from time my magician unlocked the door. Picking the ball up in midfield, he went as if to send it out wide towards van Staveren, but instead lifted a super ball over the top to Milano; his control was perfect, Mildenhall came out and Milano drove it powerfully into the roof of the net from twelve yards out. An excellent finish, and one that was to salvage a point we barely deserved.

Full time: Grimsby 1 (Palmer 43), Bristol Rovers 1 (Milano 82)

davidbr

Even though we hadn’t lost I was still too angry with the performance to trust myself to deliver the post-match team talk; that was left to Tony, though from the sounds of it he wasn’t any more gentle. I did, though, make a special point of going over to congratulate Milano on his equaliser, he’d been nowhere near fit but still sweated blood for the team when he’d come on and that was one very calm finish indeed.

As I stormed off down the tunnel and towards the car park, someone called out after me

“Teddy,..wait!!”

Laura. I hadn’t seen her at today’s game, although to be honest I was so busy having a fit on the touchline that the Pope could have turned up with Elvis and I doubt I’d have noticed. My heart told me to turn around, but my head told me I wasn’t about to be made a fool of.

“Teddy, please. We need to talk. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for ages, why didn’t you return my calls?”

“Maybe it’s because I don’t have anything I want to say to you.”

“Look, I’m sorry about what my boss said but it didn’t come from me. I wasn’t even in the office on Thursday, the first I knew was when Jane on reception told me you’d called. I’m not even on the sports desk anymore, they’ve banished me off to cover f**king public interest stories; hell, I spent today going out to some ****-hole of a council estate to interview some woman whose bin hadn’t been emptied on time! Look, can we at least go for a drink and talk about it?”

I felt a smile flickering across my face; “Yeah, I guess so. I could sure use one after that bloody performance. There’s a cab waiting outside, let’s get out of here!”

“Oh, by the way – what happened to the window in your office??”

“It had a close encounter with a U.F.T.”

“ A what??”

“Unidentified Flying Telephone. It’s a long story.”

davidbr

After my adventures in there on Thursday night, I decided it’d be safest to avoid the Horn and Trumpet, so instead we made for Hogshead, ordered a pint of Hooegarden each (plus a whiskey chaser for me!) and proceeded to have a heart-to-heart.

“So, what’s the score with you and this boss of yours? Ex-boyfriend or something?”

“No!! Jesus, he’s 45 with a bloody great beer gut!” She took a sip of her pint, and began to explain.

“All I’ve ever wanted to do was be a writer, a journalist, even as a kid. But I couldn’t go to University, my folks couldn’t afford it, and without a degree and God-knows what else none of the papers I applied to would even look twice at me.”

“So??”

“Well, one day I saw an ad for a junior reporter at the Post, so I applied. I didn’t have any of the qualifications they said I needed for the job, but I got an interview and Johnson was on the panel. I knew he’d only hired me because I look good in a short skirt, but I just needed to get my foot in the door and anyway I just thought he was a pervy old man”

“And he wasn’t?”

“Well yeah, he is, but he’s just so, creepy. He’d fix it so we’d both end up working late when everyone else went home, he’d brush up against me and run his hands up my top, send me all these pervy e-mails. That kind of thing.”

“So that’s why he tried to get rid of me, then, he must know we’ve been seeing each other. Look, love, there’s laws against that sort of thing. You don’t have to put up with it, you know!”

“What, report him? Then what; he denies it, or says it was just a “bit of a laugh”, the most he’ll get is a slap on the wrist and as for me I’m out of a job. Look, Teddy, you’re sweet but you just don’t understand what it’s like.”

“OK, then tell me.”

“Journalism’s a man’s world. If you’re a girl you have to work twice as hard just to get accepted and if you’re a girl like me who left a ****-hole of a school with less qualifications than a Big Brother winner, well.. If I can just stick it out, get some experience under my belt, then I can move on, the Nationals maybe.”

She wiped a tear from her eye and suddenly I felt incredibly angry, There must be something I could do to help, but somehow I didn’t think that dragging Laura’s boss up to the top floor of our flats and seeing whether the EEC had changed the laws on gravity would do either of our careers much good!

Then it hit me. Bristol Rovers, like most clubs, have a match-day programme, and we needed someone to edit it. Actually we were bloody desperate for someone; my old foe Paul Trollope had been doing it up until now, I figured we had to make him do some work for his grand and a half a week, but he couldn’t write his own name without looking at his passport first.

“So, how about it? It ain’t the Times exactly, but you’ll still have a couple of thousand readers and who knows, when we’re in the Champions League maybe you’ll be famous.”

Sorted! I reckon that deserves another pint or two to celebrate!

Dimony

KUTGW, a bloody good read.

BobBev

What he said :thup:

davidbr

Thanks for the kind words, Dimony & BobBev, glad you're enjoying it :thup:

Like I said before, I'd already posted the first part of this on another site which appears to have died, so I'm just trying to catch up to the point I'm currently at without going (I hope) too fast. Oh, and sorry about the asterisked words; where it'd been posted before they didn't have the darn swear filter to worry about

davidbr

Monday 29th August 2005

Carlisle vs. Bristol Rovers, League Two from Brunton Park.

Bris R (4-1-4-1); Scott Shearer, Jean-Christophe Cesto (Lee Grant 33), Chris Carruthers, Ryan Hartslief, Souleymane Bamba, Johannes Djourou, Ryan Williams, Sebastian Larsson (Gary Hamilton 74), Dean West, Franklin Salas, Francesco Milano

Carlisle were in 23rd ahead of this game, but given the long trip and our dodgy form on the road I was in a less than confident mood as we took to the field at Brunton Park. And inside the first two minutes my heart rate took an early rise as Cesto slipped, Brendan McGill found space down the right and his cross was headed narrowly over by veteran defender Zigor Aranalde; not the start I wanted, and it earned Cesto the first four-letter volley of the evening.

Thankfully after that early scare we settled down quickly, Dean West and Franklin Salas were producing some clever link-play which was keeping the home defenders on their toes and Johannes Djourou mopped up superbly every time the ball found its way towards our goal. But our big problem so far this season has been the inability to turn possession into goals, and when Dean West skied one clear over the bar from ten yards out my hands went to my head yet again. But this time we were not to be denied.

Francesco Milano still wasn’t fully fit but he’d badgered me into letting him start, and on 21 he showed why I’ve got such faith in him. Sebastian Larsson found space in the centre circle, he quickly released it wide to Ryan Williams and Williams picked out Dean West thirty yards out. West shaped as if to shoot, but instead slipped a perfect through ball and Milano was onto it in a flash to drive the ball past keeper Anthony Williams; it was a super finish, Williams didn’t even move. Things went from bad to worse for Carlisle when midfielder Peter Murphy was sent off for a two-footed lunge on Salas in the last minute of the first half, and we trooped off the field leading by the only goal.

Half time: Carlisle 0, Bristol Rovers 1 (Milano 21)

With a man down (Murphy was Carlisle’s holding midfield man too) Salas was finding increasing amounts of space, Dean West was making a nuisance of himself too and Johannes Djourou now had more license to come forward and join in attacks. We should have been out of sight by the hour mark, West missed another decent chance and Salas hit the post and the crossbar with low drives from the edge of the area, but as the match moved towards the final quarter-hour the killer second goal just wouldn’t come. Mind you Carlisle were hardly any threat – they’d yet to manage a shot of any description all half – but at 1 – 0 it’d only take one daft mistake to undo all the hard work.

Sebastian Larsson hadn’t really got going in the second half so, looking for attacking options the Swede was withdrawn and Gary Hamilton entered the game; Hamilton had been very poor against Grimsby and I’d given him a right bollocking (that’s a telling off by the way, not a bizarre Norfolk sex ritual) – this was his chance to prove he wasn’t actually winding me up about being an international footballer. And while he hardly lit up the stage, it was from his boot that we finally put this game to bed.

Two minutes from time Chris Carruthers made a foray down the left wing and picked out Dean West in space, West slid it across to Gary Hamilton and Hamilton tried his luck from 25 yards. He hit it well and the keeper was beaten, but his shot cannoned back off the left hand post. I’d started to curse our luck, but this time the hand of fate was kind as the loose ball came straight back out to Franklin Salas; he doesn’t miss those and that was 2-0 to Bristol Rovers. That was also how it finished, a job well done and the journey back passed far quicker than the journey up.

Full time: Carlisle 0, Bristol Rovers 2 (Milano 21, Salas 88)