retired_venomm

28th January, 2007 – Judgement Day – Atheltic Club Bilbao v Sevilla

As down as I was feeling about our current situation, I was determined to not leave the club without securing at least one victory. It was scary to think that this time tomorrow, if things didn’t go our way, that would be the reality of the situation. Nobody wants to be remembered as a failure.

I had put in far more preparation work for this match than any of the others I had managed in. I had a scout checking out the Sevilla squad, another scout compiling a pre-match report on their system and players, I had read endless newspapers (rather sceptically) about the possible line-up and who the danger men were, and I had watched 5 of Sevilla’s previous matches on video before the game. I would like to think I knew their style of play very well, more than I have known about previous oppositions. Maybe my lack of extensive effort had been my major downfall so far, I guess we will soon find out.

I picked the strongest line up I had available to me. Even Andoni Iraola had been declared fit to play, it was to be his first appearance since pulling his hamstring. He seemed to be very up for the occasion, wanting to remind me why he was my first choice in that position before his injury. I wanted my team to really go for it today. If it was to be my last match in charge, I wanted to be leaving knowing that we didn’t sit back and just let it happen. I needed my players to take the match by the scruff of the neck and shake it senseless, weather they won it or not. I needed to be proud of the effort.

I spoke to the media before the game, the first time I have done so since I'd arrived and declared that I thought we could win the first game. That was the comment that got ridiculed by my number 10 Francisco Javier Yeste. Although I didn’t agree with the way he went about stating his opinion, the truth of it was that he was right. I had been a little naïve thinking I could just walk in and turn the side around over night. He had done his bit in getting noticed on that first day, and it had done me the world of good to have a little conflict in the ranks. It was driving me to want to do better, to prove that I should be the man in charge. He was exactly the sort of player I needed in my team, someone committed, someone with a strong personality, someone who isn’t afraid to say something if he thought it needed to be said, and most importantly of all, someone that wanted to win all of the time. He was the first name on the team sheet, and I made sure that everybody knew it.

I told the media that we were going to win the game, and I meant it.


“I think you all pretty much know the line up for today from the set pieces we’ve been working on” I said, and waited for my translator to replay the words in a language my players were more familiar with. “Franky, left wing” I wrote his name on the blackboard. “Andoni, right wing” I had made a point of naming him second to show how much I wanted him back in the side, he needed to feel important after a month on the sidelines. “Danny in goal as usual. Gago, Casas, Murillo and Luis in defence” I continued writing the names up as I spoke. “Tiko and Pablo, I want you to sit in midfield, attack when we have the ball and come deep when we don’t. The same goes for Fernando and Aritz. I want you two to hold the ball up and include more players in attack, there has been too much individuality in the team lately and it needs to stop. I want every one of their attacking players closed down as soon as they get the ball, that is the responsibility of the nearest man to them. If you aren’t willing to chase the ball for 90 minutes, say so now and we can replace with one of the young lads that are dying to get a chance in the first team. I want their strikers to be forced away from goal, towards the sidelines, that’s the job of the centre backs. Get your positioning right and trap them between yourself and the full back on your side. I want maximum effort, if you aren’t performing, you are coming off, it’s as simple as that. Are there any questions?”

I let my translator finish, waited in the apprehensive silence for a few seconds, clapped my hands a couple of times in encouragement and told them to get ready. I was impressed, they all seemed extremely focussed and were edging each other on. There was a determination there that I hadn’t seen from them before and it provided a feeling of confidence that we so desperately needed. I looked at the blackboard once more, to check I had said everything I wanted to say. It read:

<pre class="ip-ubbcode-code-pre"> Llorente AdurizYeste Iraola Orbalz TikoCasas L Prieto Murillo Gago Aranzubia</pre>

I nodded to myself and led the team into the tunnel muttering, psyching myself up for the match that could end my career here before it had even really started.

As we walked out I had expected to be greeted with a gigantic chorus of boos from the full to capacity crowd. I was totally stunned to see that the reception was completely different. People were clapping me as I made my way past them to the dugout, as if they felt sorry for me and wanted me to do well after all that had happened in the news lately. It was a very mellowing and emotional walk. I sat in my seat, almost with tears in my eyes. I fought them back, breathed out heavily and tried to get into the zone.


The Match

We kicked off, playing to my left. Sevilla were flying high in 4th position in the table, and they looked like they expected an easy ride here today. For my players sake, I hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

I was still trying to get comfortable when the first chance of the match came. We had a throw in deep in our own half on the near side of the pitch, which Casas had taken. Yeste had missed his header and Daniel Alves had taken the ball past him. Yeste hadn’t given up though and tackled him hard, leaving him on the floor for a while, not knowing what had hit him. He quickly lifted the ball forward to Aduriz in the centre circle who controlled the ball well and tried to play it first time to Llorente. Aitor Ocio had been very alive to the danger and had nodded the ball to safety before Llorente could get a touch on it. The clearance landed at the feet of Casas, who played it forward first time over Daniel Alves, who was still rolling around in pain. Orbalz picked up the forward pass and delivered a fantastic ball behind the full back for Yeste on the left wing, he had a good 40 yards of space in front of him to run into. Instead of running for goal line like everyone had expected, he played it short to Llorente, who tried an optimistic effort from 35 yards out, needless to say he made a horrible mess of it. He had somehow sliced it to Aritz Aduriz, the ball had bounced a couple of yards in front of him and he struck it first time from the right edge of the 18 yard box. It flew past the goalkeeper at unbelievable speed. Amazingly, after only 1 minute and 2 seconds, we were 1-0 up. What a start!

I’m pretty sure I hadn’t shown any emotion to the goal. I’ve seen my team take the lead numerous times, only to throw the game away with silly errors. I stayed in my seat, not getting overly excited.

6 minutes in and we had another glorious opportunity. Casas had pinged a lovely cross into the box, only for Llorente to head his chance straight to the goalkeeper. It was a waste, but the start we had made had really got the fans going, the atmosphere was electric. A struggling side that suddenly starts looking like they can play always seems to get a crowd going. The ball was eventually put out for a throw-in by Sevilla’s Duda. The throw in was played short to Iraola on the right hand side, who confidently skipped past his man and delivered a stunning fast cross into the box, only for Llorente to head over from just in front of the penalty spot, the second chance he had failed to convert in quick succession. We had really missed Iraola’s trickery and crossing on the right side, it was great to see him back.

20 minutes in and we were still playing deep in Sevilla’s half. Out of nowhere, another great chance presented itself and faded away. We had been playing the ball around smoothly but eventually had given it away to Sevilla’s number 14, Escude I think his name is. I had looked to my right to talk to a few players, asking them to do some casual warming up on the touch lines. They weren’t going to be brought on any time soon, but I wanted to make sure I had players ready no matter what happened. There was suddenly a loud outburst from the supporters and I looked around, I was out of my chair trying to see what had happened. All of my players seemed to be running towards the corner flag, the supporters at that end were jumping around like they had never been so happy. The random action at the far end of the field was soon followed by an announcement of something I couldn't understand in Spanish that ended in ‘Franciscoooo Javiiieeeer, Yessssssssssssssssste’ and a roar from the supporters. We had gone 2-0 up and I had missed it, God knows what had happened! I watched the highlights on the big screen a few moments later to see that Llorente had closed down Escude, rushing his clearance, which went straight to Yeste who smashed the ball high and hard into the top right corner, clipping the post on its way in. It was a brilliant goal, out of nothing aswell. For the first time since I arrived, we had a 2 goal lead, clear daylight between us and the opposition. It was all about not being sloppy now.

We were creating chances for fun, I couldn’t believe it, we have never played like this before, we were so positive, so creative, so in control!

There was only 5 minutes to go until half time when we were awarded a freekick on the edge of the Sevilla penalty area. They formed a 6 man wall that looked impossible to get the ball over. Tiko was eyeing the situation up much like I have seen Ronaldinho do, totally unaware of everything around him, eyes fixed on the ball with the most serious of expressions. He ran up, the wall jumped and amazingly the ball was gone, where… nobody seemed to know, including the camera-men, when I glanced at the screen for a better view it was nothing but movement, clearly trying to find the ball. He had ran up and just pushed it ten yards to his right, Iraola had jumped slightly in the air to steady himself, ran up to the loose ball and belted it low and hard to the left corner. It went through 3 or 4 bodies, I couldn’t be sure how many, but it went through. The keeper stood still, watching events unfold. The net bulged for the third time in the first half as he stumbled backwards to regain his balance. The third roar from the supporters was easily the most elated yet. I raced out of my seat to the sidelines, Iraola, in his first match back from injury, was racing towards me with a determined expression on his face, he kissed the badge on his shirt and pointed to me and suddenly the whole team was in a huge pile up on the side of the pitch. I was at the bottom of it, all I could see was red and white stripes and mud. It was an unbelievable moment. Truly unbelievable.

At half time we were 3-0 up. When the whistle went, there was a huge satisfied roar, the fourth of the day, from the supporters. They cheered us all the way into the tunnel. Everyone was smiling (everyone involved with Athletic Bilbao anyway), more in disbelief than anything else. We had dominated the possession, had 12 shots on goal compared to Sevilla’s 3 and we were well in front.

I can’t remember what I said at half time to be honest. I was so high on adrenaline that I think everything was just instinct. The players were all delighted, even more so when they could hear the manager next door giving his side a right grilling, they had been on the end of one of those from me before, but it was all different now, nothing else mattered at that moment in time. It was all about not losing their heads and getting carried away.


The players were applauded onto the field in the second half and produced a display of huge professionalism. They weren’t trying to be too adventurous, they weren’t putting passes astray and they were all doing their bit in defence. We cancelled Sevilla out for much of the second half, so much so that there wasn’t really anything worth mentioning for the majority of it. Sevilla managed a few half chances from set pieces, but they weren’t really threatening us from open play. We looked comfortable.

A wake up call came in the 78th minute, Sevilla were pushing forward and Daniel Alves hit a long range effort against the post, it eventually spun out of play after threatening to stay in. It was the nearest they had come in the whole match. My defenders looked like they had just been slapped in the face, it had really brought a sense of reality back to the occasion. Luckily they all tightened up and didn’t let it happen again.

Sevilla were getting frustrated at the lack of chances and eventually they started to show it. Carlos Velasco Carballo found himself walking to the tunnel 7 minutes before everyone else for shoving one of my players in the box as the ball was coming across from a corner. It was an unnecessary foul and he just wouldn’t let the issue drop with the referee. He was booked twice in quick succession and given his marching orders, he was still flailing his arms around in protest as his disappeared down the tunnel. Our supporters were loving it, getting really excited. We had a chance to really send them home happy.

It was the first penalty we had been awarded under my management, Orbaiz would be the taker. The crowd fell quiet, most of the people around me were clutching their hands close to their chest, not wanting to watch, but not being able to resist. They just wanted him to score and really put the icing on the cake. He took a short run up, drilled the ball to the goalkeepers right, the keeper had dived the right way but it was beyond his reach, it was in. It was 4-0! It was the stuff that dreams were made of. He walked towards the supporters with his arms aloft, nodding his head while they all chanted his name.

The last few minutes of the match were played out and the final whistle eventually blew, closely followed by a cheer loud enough to blow roof off, if we actually had a roof on the stadium that is. My first win. My first taste of victory, and it was so sweet.


I didn’t say much after the match, I left the players to enjoy themselves and celebrate in their own way. I made my way home. I hadn’t spoken to the media after the match. I wanted to, but I knew that I could easily get carried away and promise things to the fans that I couldn’t guarantee, so I refused to let myself make any comments at all. I would let the result do the talking and hope we could follow up with more of the same. I still had a job, it was a relief, but there was still a lot of work to be done here.

I got a few knocks on the door that night, mainly to check if everything was ok. I might have been guilty of standing in the middle of my hotel room and yelling at the top of my voice in happiness when I got back. It had scared a few of the people on the same floor. I hadn’t realised it was so late, I’m pretty sure I didn’t really care either.

For the first time since my arrival, I had a good nights sleep.

retired_venomm

3rd February, 2007 – Barcelona v Athletic Club Bilbao

The end of January had been utterly fantastic. We had won our first game since I took charge, then the very next day, contracts had been agreed with Karanka and Merino. My two targets would join us on free transfers on July 1st.

The match today seemed to be a forgone conclusion. Barcelona were top of the league, 3 points clear, while we sat in 20th level on points with the 3 teams above us. I wasn’t expecting anything really today. I was right not to as well, in the entire match we only managed 43% of the possession and no shots on goal what so ever. We only even had one corner, that’s how dominant Barcelona had been. They were simply brilliant, everywhere except in front of goal was. Despite their huge domination of the match, they failed to convert any of the chances and played the last half hour without a recognised striker on the field after Samuel Eto’o couldn’t run off a knock he had picked up. The match ended as a 0-0 draw, much to the disgust of the Barcelona fans and to our delight. A very valuable point from a game we looked incapable of winning. It would move us up to 18th!

I envied Barcelona, I really did. Life would be so different if I were in charge there. Gigantic transfer budget, world famous players, huge stadium, top facilities and the added fact that everybody wanted to play for them at some point in their career. However, I was starting to find out that life at Athletic Biblao was damn good also. My relationship with the players, after a dodgy start, was now fantastic. We got on well, the spirit was good, we had talent, a surprising amount of it too considering everyone here was pro-Basque only. Right now, I wouldn't change it for anything, not even Barcelona.

retired_venomm

17th March, 2007

Following the draw in Barcelona, we had suffered a very frustrating few weeks. My birthday had come and gone, so had a lot of the enthusiasm in the squad after our glorious result against Sevilla. We had gone on another one of those streaks, the ones that no manager likes to be on - where you just can’t win a game.

To fill you in on the details a little, we were back in the dreaded bottom spot, with only 10 matches left in the season to drag ourselves out of it too.

On the 11th of February we had played Gimnastic at their place. We had gone in front thanks to yet another goal from Francisco Yeste, only for them to get back on level terms in the 89th minute. It was frustrating and Pablo Orbaiz, my captain, had got himself sent of for losing his temper following the goal. He would go 2 weeks without any wages, just like any other player does when they get sent off in my team.

We followed our draw with another one, this time in Valencia on the 18th, three away matches in a row now. This one ended 0-0, the diabolical amounts of rain once again ruining what could have been a good match.

After a nasty run of away games, finally we had a couple at home to look forward to. The first would be against Atletico Madrid on the 25th of February. Unbelievably, we had lost the game to yet another extremely late goal, this one being deep into injury time, the 93rd minute to be precise. Fernando Torres had put Atletico 1-0 up early on with a marvellous individual effort, which we had cancelled out in the 56th thanks to a tap in from Aduriz after some impressive build up play. We had held on well, soaking up all the pressure. That was until Martin Petrov had so cruelly danced around 3 defenders and stroked the ball effortlessly past Daniel Aranzubia. My stunned goalkeeper just lay there on his back for what seemed like hours, knowing there was no way back into this one. I don’t think anyone could quite believe the way we had been beaten here, it was a moment of pure genius from their striker. There was barely time for the match to be restarted before the final whistle blew. The goal was scored with more or less the last kick of the game.

Our next home game against Mallorca hadn’t been much of an improvement. We had taken the lead 10 minutes into the game thanks to a sweetly stuck shot from Fernando Llorente. Angelos Basinas had pulled Mallorca level in the 39th minute, and that was the way it had stayed. It was another draw from a game we had dominated for large periods, another 2 points lost rather than 1 point gained. We deserved a bit of fortune to come our way. Anytime soon would be nice!

Our last match had been against Racing Santander. By the 73rd minute it was very noticeable that my players had given up, they were 3-0 down. Gonzalo Colsa had given Racing the lead in the 27th minute after shrugging Casas aside and placing his shot neatly into the far corner. The lead was extended by Jorge Lopez shortly after half time. He hit a freekick that was as sweet as any I have seen in the time I have been here, finding its way in off the woodwork, giving my keeper no chance. When Gonzalo Castro put the 3rd away with a volley from the edge of the box after a well thought out corner routine, I had had enough. I threw on Amorebieta and Javi Martinez, replacing Ustaritz and Tiko, who had both had terrible days at the office. I called the nearest player, who happened to be Francisco Yeste, over to the sideline and tried my best to explain to him that I wanted him to rev the team up a bit, get a bit of enthusiasm in there because this was just embarrassing to watch at the moment. Surprisingly, whatever he had said when he jogged back on (he was yelling instructions at people and clapping his hands together) had worked! 2 minutes later we had pulled a goal back, Pablo Orbaiz had lofted a perfect ball behind Racing’s defence and Fernando Llorente was clean through, he dropped his shoulder, faking a shot, rounded him and side-footed the ball into the empty net. Good lad, I was pleased that we at least had something to our name other than poor statistics in this match. There would be another goal for us before full time, but it would come too late to give us a chance of pushing for a draw. In the 90th minute, a corner from the left hand side had been fumbled by their goalkeeper, Llorente was quick to pounce on the rebound, blasting it towards goal. Somehow Calatayud had got to his feet and kept the ball out, but only managing to push it a few feet in front of himself. Joseba Etxeberria was first to the ball and he forced it through the gathering of players, eventually seeing it go across the line after multiple deflections. The final whistle had gone, the match was over, but I couldn’t stop myself from clapping my teams effort in the last 15 minutes. One thing was for sure, Francisco Yeste had a huge presence in this team. It couldn’t be ignored, there was something about him that inspired the other players. Before we had even made it to the dressing room, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I had a new captain.


I pulled Pablo Orbaiz to one side in training earlier today and without too much help from my translator, I had managed to explain that he wouldn’t be wearing the armband in the next match. It came as something as a surprise to him, the manager here before me had been using him as the club captain (somewhat surprisingly, the fans favourite for the role seemed to be Joseba Etxeberria) and I had continued the trend, assuming he must be the man for the job. However, it was becoming more and more apparent that he wasn’t. He was upset, as anyone would be, but very understanding. I think he realised that there was someone better suited for the role in the team. I asked Pablo not to tell anybody about our conversation and explained that I would delay the news until I was announcing the line up in the dressing room, before the match tomorrow. It was a big deal, but I wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. Pablo Orbaiz was a crucial member of my starting line up and I didn’t want him to feel unwanted in any way.

Francisco Javier Yeste would lead the team out for the first time at our much loved San Mames stadium, tomorrow.

retired_venomm

18th March, 2007 – Athletic Club Bilbao v Recreativo

I finished going through my instructions for the game and let the players get themselves prepared. It was pretty quiet in the dressing room, quieter than usual. We had been on a bad run, there was no denying it, and we were starting to look like we lacked the togetherness we had shown at the start of the month. Things weren’t going right, and naturally, everyone looks for someone else to blame in situations like this.

I took this opportunity to announce the change of captaincy, I shouted across the room to Francisco, who was securing his shin pads in place and tying his laces, “Hey Franky!”. I threw the arm band in his direction before he had chance to turn round, he saw it out the corner of his eye and instinctively caught it. He looked down at the alien object in his hand and back up to me, puzzled. Most of the players were watching, not really knowing what was going on, it was unlike me to call a player individually after I had explained the tactics, “You’re the captain today.” An air of unrest seemed to fill the room as everyone tried to make them self look busy, not wanting to get involved. Franky looked to his left, Pablo Orbaiz had just pulled his shirt over his head and was tucking it neatly into his shorts. He could feel the eyes of my star player on him and glanced back. He didn’t say anything, but gave a single reassuring nod. Franky looked back at me and showed no emotion. The transfer of power had taken a twist I hadn’t foreseen. I had expected some sort of reaction from somebody, a protest from somewhere in the room. Amazingly, everyone seemed to go about their business as usual. I didn’t really know what to say, so I didn’t say anything, I let the team walk out, Franky out in front for the first time in his career.

It wasn’t until we were in the tunnel that I noticed he wasn’t wearing the armband. Instead he was clutching it tightly in his right fist, the hand not occupied by the tiny grip of one of our young mascots. He didn’t put it on until one of his feet touched the turf on our pitch, which looked perfect by the way. He would use this routine in every match that he was captain for, it was the first time he had done it but it was so obviously going to be superstition from now on. It was a huge moment, really huge, and nobody in the crowd even seemed to notice for what seemed like an eternity. It was just another time the team had walked out of the tunnel for them. As the teams got further onto the pitch and I took my place in the dugout, people were starting to notice who was leading the team out on the big screen. The spectators around me started to discuss the matter loudly, so they could hear each other, but that was all. Obviously I couldn’t hear everyone in the crowd, but the bits and pieces I did pick up seemed to be unconcerned about the decision. It had been a perfect transition.


The match began and the first chance of the game came to Emmanuel Osei of Recreativo. He had a central free-kick around 35 yards out and had tried his luck, more to force my keeper into an early save than anything else, I thought. He wasn’t far away either judging by the reaction of the people behind the goal, the ball sailed wide of the left post and clattered nosily into the advertising boards, much to the relief of our supporters.

I hard been forced into playing Iraola at right back, I had news before the game that Unai Exposito shouldn’t be risked after sustaining a heavy bruise on his ankle in training. Iraola seemed to play well wherever I put him on the right side of the field, and right back was certainly no exception. He was a great utility man to have in the side. He would always be an attacking player though in my eyes, and his driving forward run on the half hour mark proved my opinions had validity. He had chased all the way from the edge of his own penalty area to support the attack, he played a nice one-two with Tiko and continued powerfully into the penalty area. Recreativo’s number 5, Mario, had ran across to cover that side and slid in. The ball was long gone by the time he made contact, arms flew up everywhere, all the players in red and white and pretty much every man, woman and child in the stands believed it was a clear cut penalty, and the referee agreed.

Pablo Orbaiz was our penalty taker, as he had been all season. What a day to have the responsibility of a penalty kick on your shoulders, the day he had been stripped of his captaincy. He placed the ball on the spot, lifted it up again and stamped around a bit on the paint to level the surface, eventually replacing the ball. He took 8 steps backwards, like he always did, the tension was so unbearable that I actually literally counted them. He tilted his head from side to side, as if trying to make his bones in his neck click and looked across at the referee. The referee brought the whistle to his mouth and blew it. Orbaiz looked at the goalkeeper and began his run up from the left side of the ball. As soon as he made contact the supporters behind the goal leapt in to their feet cheering, prematurely. He blasted it straight down the middle, the goalies right knee had kept the ball out, forcing it high and to the left hand side of the penalty area. The fans that were off their seats lowered their hands, most placing them on top of their heads as the sound around the stadium changed from a unified ‘yeeeeeaaaaahhhhh’ to ‘ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh’. It was horrible. Orbaiz followed his miss with another swipe of his foot, this time at nothing but thin air in pure aggression. He couldn’t believe it. The ball was hoofed out for a throw-in just inside our own half and everything started to calm down again. Francisco Yeste had been the first man to Pablo Orbaiz and simply patted him on the back of the head a couple of times in a ‘don’t worry about it’ manner. I don’t know if Pablo knew who it was who that had done that, he wasn’t looking in the right direction to see, but I’d have liked to think he appreciated the gesture no matter who had offered it to him.

3 Minutes before the half time break and Iraola was at it again. This time racing into the penalty area after a freekick had been deflected out to him, he skipped past Mario for the second time in the match, produced a couple of amazingly confusing step overs and wrong footed Dani Bautista who brought him down horrendously. It was nearly a perfect replay of the first decision. Amazingly, it was another penalty for us. The tackle had been 2 footed and extremely high, Iraola went down like a pile of bricks and didn’t get back up. It was bad, it was obvious. Players from both teams had immediately surrounded my man on the floor and were waving the physios on rather hurriedly. My heart was in my mouth, we had a glorious chance to put ourselves back in front but we had a player lying flat out on the pitch. I hovered around the half way line restlessly, trying to get information on what was happening from the official on my side of the pitch, but not getting very far. It seemed to go on for ages. Eventually there was some movement, and out of the crowd of players came my two physios and Iraola, laid out on a stretcher with his arm covering his eyes. There was no way he would be playing in the second half, that was for sure. The supporters sportingly clapped him off. The last thing he needed right now was another set back, he was really on form and had his confidence back after his hamstring injury only a couple of months back.

Normality began to resume in the Recreativo penalty area and my players seemed to be in a circle around the man with the ball. Orbaiz once again had the ball tucked under his arm, claiming it as his own. No matter who tried to talk him out of it, they weren’t going to succeed. He wanted it, and he wanted it badly. Please God let him score this one. He put the ball down, turned around and walked back, (that wasn’t his style’ I thought, he never turns away from goal). I heard the whistle blow, he turned to face the ball, ran up to it aggressively and nearly tore the net apart with a shot that no goalkeeper in the world would have saved, even if it was within their reach. The expression on his face when my other players congratulated him was hard to explain, it was a cross between relief, utter determination and something else that was hidden deep down. He was possessed by the same stuff that controls Roy Keane and Gennaro Gattuso for those few moments.

Happy that we had the lead, I ran down the tunnel after my injured player, several minutes before the half time whistle would blow. I chased them into the dressing room to find out what was going on. Andoni Iraola’s left leg was in pieces, snapped horribly below the knee and above the ankle, right in the middle of his shin. It was pointing at the most disgusting of angles. I felt physically sick to see it and had to look away. He was screaming in pain, tears running down his face, I couldn’t believe he was even conscious right now. His season was over, hell, I didn’t even know if he would ever play again at that moment in time.

He was gone, on his way to the hospital by the time the players came through for the half time interval. They all knew what had happened and wanted to know how he was more than how they were doing in the match. It was easily my most difficult half time team talk ever. I had explained that we wouldn’t know the extent of his injury until later in the day, but that I was pleased with the performance so far. Unai Exposito didn’t look too pleased to be told that he would be playing the second half while still nursing an injury, but I literally didn’t have anybody else that could replace the guy in the ambulance at right back.


The players were marvellous in the second half. They created countless opportunities and were clearly determined to win the game for Andoni. The only thing that was surprising come the final whistle, was that we hadn’t won by a far more convincing score-line. It had ended 1-0, we had 58% of the total possession and 11 of our 17 shots had been on target.

The media had caught up with me in the tunnel at the end of the game, I had only responded because they had caught me with my guard down asking about the injury to Iraola. I explained what they already knew, telling them that he would be out of action for some time and that that he was going to be missed. We have a competent squad though and I fully believed that once Exposito was back to full fitness to fill the right back slot, we could easily rearrange a little, playing Etxeberria down the right wing, maybe giving promising youngster Javi Martinez a chance in the centre of midfield. Iraola was an important member of the first team, but I felt we had adequate cover.

The professional opinion of the specialists looking at Iraola’s injury was that he would be out for around 8 months. What a blow for the guy. The media were saying that we had lost our most in form player, but I wasn’t going to be pulled into a debate about that again, his well being is far more important than the how good the team sheet looks. I hate the media at times, I really do.

Francisco Yeste had stayed behind after the match to discuss a few things with me. I reassured him that he had done a good job, he kept the players together well after the disrupting events just before half time and that he would be a great captain. It was all happening so suddenly for him, I had even read rumours in a newspaper that he could be called up for the Spanish national team to play Iceland on the 28th of March. I wasn’t going to mention anything to him about it though. The story had suggested that he would only get a place if Vicente of Valencia had to be pulled out because of a recurring knee complaint. He deserved the opportunity to represent his country though, that’s for sure. I was amazed that a player that clearly possessed as much ability as he did had never won an international cap.

Still, focussing on the positives, it was another 3 points in the bag. I had half expected to see us in 18th or 17th in papers, but amazingly all the teams around us had managed to pull out some sort of result today also. It was a bit of a set back. I told myself that that would be the last time I look at the league tables before the end of the season. I didn’t want to be doing maths, calculating how many games we had to win, who we had to beat in head to heads or anything like that. I just wanted us to focus on our own game and maybe pick a few more good results up along the way.

Nine games left to go, still in 20th position.

retired_venomm

1st April, 2007 – Villarreal v Athletic Club Bilbao

After a 2 week break for international fixtures, we had a trip to El Madrigal, Villarreal to attend to. Francisco Yeste sadly hadn’t recieved the call up for Spain I so desperately wanted to see him get. Vicente had managed to shake off his niggling knee injury just in time – luckily for Spain. He had been amongst the scorers, ending the game with the Man of the Match award as they cruised past Iceland, 3-0. The news on Andoni Iraola’s horrific injury hadn’t improved either, but further x-rays on the break had allowed my physios to give me a rough guideline of when he would be back in action, they predicted early September. It is a long way off, but it was a fantastic boost knowing that my first choice right winger could be back in time for the start of the new season. I wasn’t going to get my hopes up too much though, he had a lot to do to regain his fitness levels. I just hope the injury doesn’t affect the boys desire to take the ball and run at people. I still have absolutely no idea how the two footed challenge that snapped his leg didn’t even receive a yellow card, it was crazyness.

We were behind after only 4 minutes, Nihat, who was looking every bit as good as Pele in the first half, had wriggled away from my centre backs and hit a low shot past Daniel Aranzubia. It was a terrible start, and worse was to follow. Only 26 minutes in and we had another injury to worry about, once again down the right hand side. Joseba Etxeberria had gone into a challenge and twisted his ankle, thankfully it would only keep him out for about a week, but it was all too familiar seeing players rolling around in pain at the moment. He wouldn’t play in our next match against Betis, but he should be fit in time to face Espanyol in 2 weeks time.

Fernando Llorente was to make a real name for himself here today. 3 minutes before half time he found himself on the end of a cross from Aritz Aduriz. He powered his header past Mariano Barbosa to put us on level terms. 2 minutes into the second half and he had done it again. Francisco Yeste tricked his way past a couple of players, dinked ball into the six yard box and Llorente was off celebrating for the second time today. Another perfectly placed powerful header. Within the space of 5 minutes on either side of half time, we had turned the match around completely.

This was a fantastic position to be in and I wasn’t going to throw it away lightly. Off came Aduriz and on came Unai Exposito. I was planning on playing him from the start but I had given Ander Gago the nod due to Exposito still not looking fully match fit. Anyway, on he came and we reverted to a super defensive 5-4-1. I generally can’t stand formations designed to do nothing but defend, but this was a matter of survival, personal preference wasn’t one of the priorities right now.

They came at us for much of the second half, but were never able to break through our evilly over exaggerated defence. In fact, from the 70th minute onward, I’m not even sure we had the ball in their half, it was constant pressure. We were hanging on for our lives, knowing how valuable the win could be here today. It was in an away match too! This really would be a rarity, we had been playing awfully away from home lately. It was a relief to hear the whistle blow after what seemed to be the hundredth goal kick for us. Villarreal had piled in 8 shots in the last 20 minutes alone, none of them on target. Despite their efforts, the only shot they did manage to get on target was the goal in the first half. I was delighted and extremely proud of my players.

Final result: Villarreal 1 v 2 Athletic Club Bilbao

I had swore to myself that I wouldn’t look at the league tables until the end of the season, but it was just impossible not to. Even if I hadn’t sneaked a peak, it wouldn’t have matter anyway, it was on the news everywhere. The players were all very aware of the situation too and they were delighted with it, we were off the bottom! 19th place, 2 victories in a row and a home fixture to look forward to next week. We were giving ourselves a chance!

retired_venomm

8th April, 2007 – Athletic Club Bilbao v Betis

This was always going to be a tough match. Betis were in 6th place and eyeing up European football next season, I didn’t fancy our chances. Their passing was fantastic, from the opening 10 minutes of the game they were putting together clever little moves, creating space, pulling our players out of position and not allowing us any time on the ball. They were a well oiled machine, running smoothly through the gears.

We were undone after only 24 minutes. They had worked the ball around the field effortlessly, from the edge of our penalty area, all the way back to their own goalkeeper then back into our half, threatening again, without us being able to get a single touch. Fernando Vega played the ball to Tobias Linderoth, who was just pushing forward out of the centre circle. He looked up and saw Rafael Sobis making a run that none of my defenders had picked up and threaded the most perfect of balls through for him. There was only ever going to be one outcome, out rushed my goalkeeper, narrowing down the angle, only to be left watching as the talented Brazilian drove the ball to his left, far earlier than anyone was expecting him to shoot. It was frustrating, but there is nothing you can do when a side can put moves like this together, other than stand back and admire it. It was a very well crafted goal.

We surprised them, actually we surprised everybody when we pulled level in the 60th minute. They were confidently passing the ball around their defensive players, much like the way Liverpool had done so successfully in the 70s and 80s, when out of nowhere, Aritz Aduriz had nipped in and stole a touch on a loose pass before it had reached its destination. He was through, his determination and perseverance had been rewarded when he intercepted the ball, his touch to control it had knocked it into the only bit of open space available to him and he was clean through against the keeper. Our first chance of the match, and he buried it. Even our fans seemed amazed, we hadn’t been in the game at all and suddenly we were on level terms.

We were hanging on, as we seemed to be doing a lot of the time in matches this season, and Rafael Sobis wasn’t intending his side to go away with anything but a win here. He picked the ball up in the centre circle and ran at us. He skipped past Luis Prieto and then just ran beyond Ustaritz who never really had a chance of getting near him. Aranzubia rushed out for the second time, this time all the way to the edge of the area, and was once again embarrassed. Rafael Sobis beat him with a delicious lob, played to absolute perfection from around 25 yards out. He could only stand and watch the ball fall into his empty net.

We had 7 minutes to rescue the match, and I intended us to try. Before the game had restarted, I pulled off Unai Exposito and replaced him with Mikel Danobeitia, a youngster that had come through the youth ranks here and looked like he could have a good future if he kept progressing the way he had been. I had replaced a defender with an attacker and was risking playing 3 at the back, knowing that things couldn’t get any worse. If Betis scored again, fair enough, it was still a loss, but at least we could play to rescue a point now. This was my second substation of the match.

Igor Gabilondo (who I had been forced to bring on earlier in the match to replace my newly appointed captain Francisco Yeste after he started limping) was doing a good job so far. It wasn’t a change I would usually have made, but I didn’t want to risk Franky further aggravating his knock and being out for any longer than he had to be, so on came Gabilondo. The two substitutes combined in the 89th minute, Igor Gabilondo picked up a clearance from Luis Prieto and ran down the left side. He looked up and knocked what looked like a terrible ball across from deep, towards the penalty area. David Rivas had a moment he will want to forget, completely missing his attempted clearance, his first mistake in the match. The ball found its way all the way through, all the way to Mikel Danobeitia. He had been on the field for a good 5 minutes now and I can’t remember him having a touch yet. His first touch, as the ball dropped in front of him, was a volley, hit first time, just to the right of the penalty spot. The crowd went absolutely bananas. The young lad stumbled in surprise that his awkward attempt had gone anywhere near he had intended it to and soon found himself face to face with people he had never met before, swallowed by the ecstatic supporters of the first few rows behind the goal. Everyone piled in and the stewards had a job on their hands to pull the players away from fans. Finally, after so many late goals against us in my first few months in charge, we had got one for ourselves. It was a lucky one, a surprisingly accurate volley after a missed clearance from a solid defender - but we had created our own luck risking playing 3 at the back, and it had paid off.

The joy was nearly short lived when Rafael Sobis was only a lick of paint away from a hat trick in the 93rd minute, catching us a little low on concentration at the end, but thankfully his effort was wide. It was to be the last action of the match.

Score at full time: Athletic Club Bilbao 2 v 2 Betis

Another point in the bag! It wouldn’t affect our league position, we remained in 19th, but it was another great confidence booster. Recreativo and Getafe, the two sides directly above us, had both lost their games and we were now within touching distance of 17th position, the safety zone.

retired_venomm

15th April, 2007 – Espanyol v Athletic Club Bilbao

Espanyol, like our previous opponents Betis, were pushing hard to be playing in a European competition next season. They were sitting in 9th place, with only 3 points separating them from the European qualification places. I had a full strength line up at my disposal, with the exception of Iraola of course, and we were high on confidence following our recent run of good form. Had the change of captaincy really had this much of an impact? We had won 2 of the last 3 games, a run of which he hadn’t seen the likes of since I had replaced Mane as manager.

It looked like our run was going to come to an abrupt end here today. Espanyol were well prepared, and took the lead early on in the second half, the goal scored by Raul Tamudo. It wasn’t anything special, a simple low ball into the box and a side footed placed shot past my keeper. It wasn’t really down to poor marking, their player just had the edge on my defenders for pace and acceleration and he had exploited his advantage.

I made 2 changes, Francisco Yeste was once again looking unfit so I pulled him off. I might even have to leave him out of the next game to fully recover, which seemed unthinkable at this stage. He just wasn’t up to match fitness. Pablo Orbaiz took the armband and Mikel Danobeitia once again replaced him. I also brought on Igor Gabilonodo to replace Tiko, who hadn’t been at his best.

We pulled level in the 74th minute, much to my relief. Aritz Aduriz had once again showed his quality in front of goal, scoring a close range effort after a long ball up field from Ustaritz, which had been knocked on by Danobeitia. I instantly replaced our goal scorer with Unai Exposito, who was being kept out of the team by a few solid performances from understudy Ander Gago. Aduriz looked disappointed to be coming off right after scoring but I think he understood the situation. The idea was to hold on and play for a point. Every point we could get these days was a vital one.

We were holding on well, closing them down and keeping possession all the way to the 90th minute. Danobeitia had once again come of the bench and given himself a chance of pushing into the first team starters. He really had made an impact in the last couple of games. He played the ball to his left, finding Gabilondo midway between the penalty area and the centre circle. He looked up realising he had a bit of space to run into, and a couple other players making good runs of their own too. We had them right where we wanted them, it was 3 against 2 at their end, in our advantage. If we were going to steal the match, this was going to be the moment. He ran forward and played the ball along the ground towards Llorente. Llorente had only 1 man between him and the goalkeeper and could have easily taken the shot on himself, instead he showed unbelievable vision to let the ball run through his legs and into the space behind him, space that Joseba Exteberria was running into. Joseba controlled the ball and hit it across the goalkeeper from a tight angle and to his amazement, it was there. Kameni in the Espanyol goal looked on in disbelief that Exteberria had managed to find a place to put the ball that was beyond him and inside the far post, it looked impossible, but he had managed it. It was surely going to be another fantastic win thanks to another very late goal. The clock showed 91 minutes when the game was restarted. There was to be no more chances. We had won it when we really hadn’t deserved to, but you take anything you can get at this stage of the season. The players, myself and the rest of the staff were all delighted with the result.

Final score: Espanyol 1 v 2 Athletic Club Bilbao

The result was perfect, the teams around us had all failed to win their games, and for the first time since I had taken the reigns, we were OUT of the relegation zone. We sat in 17th place, directly above the dreaded red line in all of the morning newspapers.

Could we really pull it off? If we continued our recent form into any of the last 6 fixtures I'd like to believe we could.

hotgirl23

this is brilliant mate kutgw!

retired_venomm

Thanks for the support Watford_fc_4_lyf!

I hope to get the end of this season written up and some of next season done aswell tomorrow. In game I'm quite ahead of what is happening in the story and need to do some speedy catching up.

Good luck with your new story by the way, I will have a read through when a bit more of it is posted :thup:

Thanks Amaroq also, I've only just seen your last post from days ago, sorry I didn't reply sooner. I thought the same thing the first time I saw Nightbreed

retired_w0lfpack1

Nice save - good luck through the run-in!