terminat

(Author's Note: This is what might have been if the Sheffield United board had been a bit more generous last season....)

"Board Meeting - and a new signing?"

I walked purposefully down the long corridor leading to the boardroom of Sheffield United FC – though I had no idea as to why I had been summoned so tersely to the club in the middle of the summer break and only two weeks into the job, I was ready for anything.

I stepped into the luxuriously appointed room, seeing the chairman Terry Robinson sitting at the highly polished mahogany desk with an imposing man who I didn’t recognise.

“Sit down, Simon.” Robinson didn’t stand up to greet me. I sat, a feeling of apprehension growing inside me – was the chairman of Sheffield United FC about to tell me that my appointment as manager had all been a big mistake? My new role as manager had been somewhat controversial, as many fans doubted I could replace the experienced Mick McCarthy, who had guided the club to the 2004-2005 Championship title only to resign a month later for unknown reasons. Still, I had a one-year contract worth almost a million pounds, so they couldn’t fire me all of a sudden without a big payoff.

“How are the pre-season plans going, Simon?” Robinson asked me, in a friendly tone, and my apprehension began to lift.

“Well,” I said. “Obviously the lads are all on holiday at the moment so I haven’t had the chance to get to know them, but I’ve got some intensive training planned as soon as they get back.”

“Good, good,” Robinson murmured, before staring straight at me. “Our team did well in the championship last year. Very well, in fact. But the premiership is a whole different game, I think, and I’m just worried we don’t have the raw talent to stay up. What do you think about that?”

“You may very well be right, Mr. Robinson,” I said, taking a deep breath. There wasn’t much point in lying. “But I’ll do my very best with what I have – after all, you’ve made it clear that there are no transfer funds available for this season.”

“Ah!” Robinson raised a finger of exclamation. “But what if I told you the situation had changed?” He looked over to the imposing man with a knowing smile.

“Changed, Mr. Chairman?” I inquired, very confused at this point.

“Yes, changed, Simon,” Robinson said, nodding towards the other man again. “We have been approached by an American business – I take it you have heard of letluckbeyourlady.com?”

I nodded – I had. Letluckbeyourlady.com was another one of those US online gambling casinos which had seemingly grown from nothing into a billion-dollar business overnight. But what did that have to do with Sheffield United?

As if reading my thoughts, Robinson continued. “This is Luther Vance, president of letluckbeyourlady. His company wishes to gain exposure in Europe, which they see as a highly lucrative untapped market, and they’ve chosen to do so through a football club. More specifically, our football club.”

“Really?” Suddenly I perked up – the thought of having transfer money to spend was a very exciting one.

“Yes.” Luther Vance spoke up for the first time, in a thick Texan drawl. “As the new sponsors of Sheffield United FC, we are prepared to offer you twenty million in transfer money.”

At that point, my mind nearly overloaded – a newly promoted club having twenty million to spend! I could buy a whole new defence, maybe a striker or two, a new goalkeeper, maybe shore up the entire squad…

However, my hopes were quickly dashed, as Vance continued. “But there is a condition – since Sheffield United is not a high-profile club, not yet anyway, you must buy a high-profile player. Moreover, a high-profile player of our choice – Alessandro Del Piero, in fact.”

“What?” I spluttered. “Del Piero would never come to Sheffield United! And even if he did, the wages...”

“Juventus’ reputation never really recovered after that horrendous match-fixing scandal,” Robinson explained. “There’s tons of horrendous publicity in Italy at the moment, and most of the players are jumping ship. Right now, I expect Del Piero just wants to get out of the club.”

“We’ve faxed over an offer for twenty million. Its already been accepted,” the chairman continued. “Its your job to convince him to sign.”

“And if I don’t?” I asked, as Robinson’s assistant handed me a first-class ticket to Italy.

“Then you won’t have a job upon your return,” the crass American said.

After that, I quickly excused myself and left the boardroom and the club, and headed straight for the airport to do the impossible. Today, I would either sign an Italian superstar for a low-profile Premiership club, or be out of a job after less than two weeks, which would effectively put me out of football management for good…