BarryLFC

That's fair enough. I just tend to be cynical when stories from other boards are reproduced and people who haven't been visible on the forum much or for long show up proclaiming it the best thing ever.

It's a decent story. :thup:

shannon2007

That's fair enough. I just tend to be cynical when stories from other boards are reproduced and people who haven't been visible on the forum much or for long show up proclaiming it the best thing ever.

It's a decent story. :thup: </BLOCKQUOTE>

TBF the tom guy merely stated that if there were awards for best story then this should be entered which is fine and the only problem I have with that is that as far as this forum is concerned this story is like what three posts long and to suggest it for best story is ridiculous. (I don't care if its been posted elsehwere that doesnt count here)

But anyway, it is a decent start so lets let the bloke get on with it :p

retired_emsta12

This is so weird.

I like it :thup:

retired_karamelkel

Just read through this. I don't find it strange at all. It's just diary entries, a style we've seen before on here. Having said that, this is one of the best, and most realistic of that sub-genre. I had to chuckle at the "defrost freezer" item in the first post as I have similar trouble with my freezer.

In short, if this keeps going it might well get a nomination for an award at the least.

And Tom, do your homework, we do have awards here. :p

retired_lovelyminoo

1st July 2007
It was open day here at the stadium. Since our season started at such an unusual time, open days had to be held half way through the year because doing it at any other time of year would just be too darn cold.

Lenny had managed to get his local to lay on some sandwhiches and we had a bouncy castle donated by the church (don't ask why they have a bouncy castle, they just do) so the kids had something to do if they didn't want to meet any of the players.

It was an extremely informal gathering. The players chatted freely with other families, they took part in the games we had provided, but the competitive edge was still there. In the father/son Twister game we had, our goalkeeper and his lad won it hands down. He'd been in doing an extra half hour of stretches after training at night, and here was me thinking he was putting in the extra effort in preperation for our upcoming games!

Steve had flown over to Scotland 2 days ago to see how Jeff was doing. As far as I knew there was no change in his condition. I mingled about the families, sponsors and players wondering if I had really made the right decision in staying behind. The club is going through one of it's best runs in recent history, leaving now could mean that all that work could be undone. I was stuck between a close friend and what seemed like a bid to further my career. I felt selfish.

The highlight of the open day was of course the "Beat the Goalie" competition. Each goal that we let in, we'd give the kids €10. All out of Lenny's pocket thankfully! Up stepped our goalkeeper, fresh from victory in the crab-walking race, ready to make it a hat-trick of successes.

Now, normally, from what I've seen of these types of events, the club would supply one of those kiddies goals. One that's about half the size of the original and made of plastic or perhaps even one of those blow-up ones. This was for 2 reasons. Firstly, it looked a lot more fun, and second... well half the size meant we'd let in half the amount of goals, and that in turn meant dishing out less money to the children.

For a reason best known to our goalkeeper, he had spent all of yesterday preparing some sort of wooden frame complete with fishing nets, and this morning he let his 2 kids paint it shades of freakish reds and oranges and yellows. It looked like the gateway to hell. It was in fact, the frame for our goals.

Up stepped kid number one. I can't remember his name, but I remember he had glasses. That fact isn't important, I just thought I'd throw it in to the diary.

I stood and watched as the wee 10 year old made his run up. I looked to my side and noticed there was a bloke making notes. A scout?! What does that say about the level of football here when you've been reduced to scouting fat 10 year olds at a "Beat the Goalie" comp.?

Lenny had by now already opened his wallet. To be fair, I didn't blame him really. Despite having the best goal scoring rate in the division, we also had one of the worst goals conceded figure in the division. And it was all down to this goalkeeper. Now, I wouldn't say he was rubbish, I am his manager after all. But let's say that missing a thumb on one of your hands doesn't help you to catch a ball cleanly.

Five shots, five goals. Lenny was looking worried. We had another 5 kids to go up and the goalie had changed his gloves twice. He had run out of things to blame. He would shortly have to live with the fact that even his own son had lost respect for him.

The scout on my left was now talking to a few of the childrens parents to see if he could take them to whatever club he was from. Our goalkeeper was beginning to make even the most rubbish of penalty takers look like they had the graceful footwork of Maradona. To him, these 10-15 year olds stroked the ball with such a delicate touch it was like they treated the football like a priceless Faberge egg wrapped in motion sensitive explosives, carrying a soundly sleeping newborn baby inside. If he had the time and the money, he'd turn this one kick into a theatrical play, a performance deserving of such a penalty kick. Really, our keeper was THAT bad today.

Just as kid number 8 stepped up to the penalty spot ready to claim his winnings, our man between the sticks caught sight of one of his sons out of the corner of his eye. He gave a smile and waved over. The son waved back then turned to get some candyfloss. Kid number 8 kicks the ball, our keeper is still in mid wave, the ball is thundering near towards the top left corner (it was a nice kick to be fair), and our keeper, out of pure instinct dives to save it.

Now, as it was an instinctive save, our goalie dived full stretch to save the ball. The ball was going well wide, but in his mind it was going to end up in the back of the net. The goals being half the size of normal ones meant his maths wasn't entirely correct. WHACK! His head smacked into the solid pine frame. He collapsed in a heap unconscious.

He's out of our squad for the next week with concussion.

The head injury of our keeper brought back thoughts of Jeff. I've booked a flight for tomorrow morning.

retired_007bondgirl

kk thanks mate, will do that this story is great

retired_gohilharshajit

LOL great stuff again! well done mate keep it up! :thup:

retired_lovelyminoo

3rd July 2007
I spent all of yesterday helping Margaret around the house. The place wasn't exactly messy, but I was doing my best to warrant my stay in her guest room for the next few days. Their house never had that funny smell that normally greets you in an old person’s house. Biscuits were always a favourite aroma of the pensioner around houses I'd visited in the past - probably down to the endless supply of the stuff that they keep for when they have guests, however this house just smelt of oranges for some reason.

Margaret was doing her best to look like everything was alright, but her attempts to mask her emotions just served to amplify how hard Jeff's condition had hit her. Her face was more drawn and paler than I remembered, she looked as ill as I imagined Jeff to be. She had very little food in the house, so I took her out to get some groceries and a few other essentials. I wanted to take her mind off it all, even just slightly, just enough to allow her mind some time off after being in overdrive for the last wee while.

Every Tuesday is the European Markets in Inverness. Traders come from around the union to give us all tastes of what life in other countries are like. I hunted out for the Norwegian stand to see if they had anything of interest that I could brag to Margaret about, but remembering the reason I was here I skipped past and didn't say anything, instead we went to Marks & Spencer to do our shopping.

Jeff's condition had improved very slightly over the last 24 hours. He was still in a lot of pain however, and was pumped full of morphine. Steve said this made communicating with him very hard, and made the doctor’s job twice as difficult to determine if his pain was getting worse or if it was still at the same level. Steve had been at the hospital overnight, allowing Margaret to go home and get some rest, as she hadn't been home in a good few days. It was a nice gesture from Steve, but I knew his reason for staying was borne from the fact that he had nowhere else to stay, and was too polite to ask Margaret for a bed for the night.

At about 5pm I got a call from Lenny. We were drawing 0-0 in our midweek game against Frigg and wanted to know if I wanted to speak to the assistant manager about making some tactical switches. I knew fine he was checking up on myself and Steve to find out when we were coming back - more so Steve - so I told him that I was sure that the assistant knew what he was doing and that we'd be back Thursday evening in Oslo and back in town early Friday morning. We lost our game 2-0 by the way. ****ing arse.

Visiting hours at the hospital were between 6pm and 8pm so myself & Margaret walked along the road seeing as it was only 5 minutes away and it was a nice evening. We met Steve outside having a cigarette. Steve doesn't smoke. Ever. With the recent result back home not going our way I was still pretty angry (I always am after losing) and took the cigarette from his hand and rammed it forcefully against his jacket, singing a nice black hole near his pocket. Throwing the cigarette to the ground I then pushed him backwards. Steve stumbled slightly, and fell onto his arse. Pointing a finger at him I told him if I ever caught him smoking again I'd slice his balls off in the middle of the night. He didn't say anything, just got up and wiped his jacket down and joined us by the entrance.

Jeff was on a heart monitor, and thankfully was conscious. The level of morphine in his blood was such that he was pretty much away with it but he recognised us all. Even if it was with a slight nod of the head to say "hi". When Margaret sat beside him you could see him try to force out a smile. It was such a touching moment, never before have I seen such a small movement mean so much to one person. Margaret smiled back before collapsing on top of Jeff and burst into tears.

Myself and Steve just didn't know what to do. We looked at one another, both waiting for the other one to say or do something but we both sat inanimate. It was probably best for Margaret to just let it all out, she'd been bottling it all up for so long now. Jeff comforted his wife, his breathing remained slow and deep throughout, it was hard to tell if this was down to the morphine slowing down his body or because he felt he needed to act strong for Margaret. I hoped it was the latter.

An hour later we left the hospital minus Margaret. She couldn't tear herself away from Jeff's bedside. I didn't want to ask for the key to her house so myself and Steve spent the rest of the night wandering around the town, most of it in silence thinking about one of the nicest and warm hearted blokes we'd both had the privilege of meeting.

Jeff passed away at 11:42pm.

retired_007bondgirl

its going a bit of the topic here mate, lets get back to the football, it wasa gd start tho

retired_lovelyminoo

It's going off topic for a reason. The idea is to show that there is more to football than just the matches, there is the whole social and personal areas, things that happen behind the scenes that go some way to shaping your character and decisions you take.

Every footballing decision is taken via FM2006, so that game against Frigg we lost 2-0 in my last entry for example, well that was me on holiday mode, leaving the assistant in charge.

I'd rather have my stories peppered with characters backgrounds and events than do what other stories do - quote stats, list 50 players they signed in a day etc. That stuff bores me.

My keeper gets concussion because he got injured in training. What fun is that to write about? Creating this whole "Open Day" even was much more fun to write, and probably more entertaining to read

The football part is there, and more is coming up in my next few entries as we're approaching the end of the Norwegian season :thup: