Brian of Nazareth

Owen Newitt contemplated the season that had just passed him by. His first year of management in football had been an enjoyably tricky one. It had been a life long ambition of his father's to control Worcester and when Steve had accepted his offer back in July 2000 he had taken the chance readily.

Contracting players to the club had proved to be a little on the harder side though, with many students brought in on part time contracts and other workers looking for a bit of fun. He’d even asked his friends to play too and they had. Mossy had been a sturdy right back, always going in with tough challenges, even to the point where his eagerness would carry him forward into unfortunate opponents who may not have had the ball for a few minutes. Lee had loved playing up front alongside part time legal eagle Phil Harris. The fact he couldn’t hit a cows arse with the proverbial never worried anyone at the club unduly because of his endearing enthusiasm on the pitch. The way his legs would rotate in that lovingly spasticated manner was a sight to behold. The smile even after he’d spooned a shot over from 2` yards was never one forgotten at St. Georges. Of course fans did become wary and he was dropped from the side as actual professionals were brought into the side, but he had added his own uniqueness to the dressing room.

There had been the 2 Joe’s as well both as vital as the other. Joe Parks, the part time train station guard at Foregate Street Station had been the rotated goalkeeper and played several games for the side. As the season drew on, the on loan Everton starlet Tim Baker had shown his class and held down a spot but Joe never gave up and his perseverance often saw him rewarded with substitutions in the final few minutes when Worcester were already smashed, with no chance of turning the game around.

The other Jo was in fact Joanne. A fact cunningly hidden from the FA, and for a large part Steve. Joanne’s ambitions were called into question when she seduced Steve days after he won the lottery at which point he most certainly did learn of her actual sexuality, but the grumpy old man didn’t complain. And married her. They both spoke of the true love that had befallen the two as they romanced into various sunsets and planned on settling in Bognor Regis. Happy to have supposedly found a partner to share his dreams and ideals, he saw no qualm in handing over many of his winnings to Oxfam and a few local charities that looked after wee kiddies or the elderly. Joanne divorced him shortly after. Irreconcilable differences apparently. Steve drank himself to an unfortunate death, careering drunkenly off a mountainside cliff astride his unicycle.

Who else had there been? Well the student kids, James Taylor, Rod Davies, Richard Kelly and Drew Bradman had all come in and done their fare share before buggering off travelling round the world getting drunk, high, or frequently both, all the time. Now back, they have promised to be made available for any future Worcester games given that first year at University didn’t require much thought anyway. There had been the quite literally dopey Jono Roberts and that was not in terms of height. He’d never been able to kick the habit and the way he drifted randomly round the pitch emitting the occasional yell for more pizza saw his career with Worcester tragically cut short.

Steve, himself and even his Dad had played but after his dad was forced into a coronary one afternoon it was decided it would best for all parties concerned if he no longer offered his services as a player. He is now chief of staff for the maintenance crew, specialising in drainage control.

Later in the year, Brian Cohen had arrived from Bethlehem FC on a free and the midfielder had provided some tough tackling displays in the heart as the favourite terrace chant: “You’re Going Home In An Ambulance” was proved surprisingly accurate most weekends. Such displays were frowned on by the FA for some reason who had made it part of their mandate to stamp out (metaphorically speaking) on stamping (physically) in the game so consequently saw several red cards headed his way. Amid very boring chants of “He’s a naughty boy” and “You’re The One” Brian had a slight tendency to over react and tell them to F*ck off and leave him alone. This brought a tiny bit of controversy to the club and at the end of the campaign Brian upped and left and the last Owen heard, he was living happily in Wales as manager of a brothel.

But of course there had been good old Aidan. The nutter. He of walking into walls because he couldn’t see it fame. Initially his year seemed to have ended when Owen and Steve had decided that a maniac whose enthusiasm and madness was inversely proportional to his ability wasn’t worth hanging on to. However as the season drew on, the dressing room gathered a distinctly stale feeling, which led to a call back for The Idiot. In all fairness to the lad he had cleaned up his act. The initial rejection first time round had inspired the lad to change his ways as he bulked up and provided a few lively displays towards the latter part of the year. He was now committed to another season of conference football with the club.

Yes, conference football.

Brian of Nazareth

Worcester City had battled strongly all season improving all the way and critics who had laughed off their chances of even reaching double figures in terms of either goals or points were amazed by their improvement, especially during a second half run that culminated in a fantastic 6-1 win over the utterly useless Forest Green Rovers. That game had seen Lee delight the crowd with a spectacular hat trick. The win had lifted Worcester to 3rd from bottom where they eventually finished the year but another controversy had helped them keep afloat to their relief, as the Worcester Evening News had reported:

Brian of Nazareth

Authors Notes:

Going back to a story I like before might not be a great idea, but sod it. Anyway it's a different version of CM, so not a direct carry on, but let's pretend eh?

axeman

This is bound to be a good one. I've already laughed hard enough to warrant sitting on the bog next time I start reading, in order to avoid "accidents"

Brian of Nazareth

I can but hope, computer spazness brought my last effort to a halt ( it is true ) but the previous ones were left unfinished be a lazy me. Hopefully this one should last longer than the others.

---

Now, Sally and Owen were looking to a summer of promise. Owen's workmates weren't sure whether they'd be around much for the new season, but with contracts finally available they signed up tentatively. However, Lee and Mossy both weren't able to fulfill their commitments any longer so had to leave, which meant Owen had a rather unfortunate large surplus of University students at his disposal. He'd be looking at more permanent options when he could. Well firstly there was the honeymoon in the Mauritius to enjoy following the pair’s marriage last week at a well-attended ceremony in Doverdale. Their relationship, Owen considered, was one that had experienced several rocky rides along the way. After initially convincing the initial fan on their first date to sign up for a few games, a horror car crash kept Sally in hospital for several weeks before she eventually made a gradual recovery. It was a time that drained plenty of energy from Owen, who, despite having suffered his own career ending leg injury within the first month of their debut season, had been forced to make an appearance or two throughout to prevent the side from having points taken away for not fielding a proper eleven. The Conference chiefs, miserable swines as they were, had refused requests to play Harry and Barry, the pet bulldogs on one such occasion.

Anyway, Sally did get back to her full level of fitness and began to contribute to squad football by the end of the campaign. During the time her relationship with Owen strengthened as the two barely left each other’s side, one acting as the rock for the other when needed. It was no surprise to hear they had decided to wed.

Once that was over, the focus would still be on the coming pre-season. It may have been June but Owen wanted to prepare properly. This meant properly researching new talent, chasing after new players and re-organising the coaching staff after the welcome input from Mr. Daniels the owner. The new owner.

Mr. Daniels had been a property-investment tycoon, who turned his attentions to horse racing and being one of those lucky fellows who never seem to miss, made even further earnings from the Racecourse at the bottom of Castle Street. With enough money to retire several times over, the restless 48 year old turned his attention to sport and the local sides. Worcester Rugby benefited as they gained promotion to the Zurich Premiership before the Cricket Club soon received an influx of funds that helped fund an improved academy of excellence for the youth. Finally, he realised there was a small football club in the town and bought out Steve’s relatives to take full control. The prospect of having plenty to spend was swiftly dashed though as Jeff endured a painful divorce to 19 year old page 3 model Tiffany Daffodil. His fortune had declined rapidly to the point where an unsuccessful flurry on the horses, saw Worcester gain no real benefit from his takeover at all. However he did take the sensible step to retrace his roots, and a burgeoning property development office was established in the downtown area, replacing the crappy C n’A in the Crowngate Shopping Precinct. Seeing as C n’ A was less popular than gay weddings in conservative America, it was fair to say the locals were glad of the change and Jeff’s good luck, on early signs, look to have returned.

Anyway, Owen awoke from his reverie to the call of his new Mrs.

“ Owen sweetheart, do you know where those carrots you bought this afternoon are?”

“ Um yeah. I do know where they are. They’re um, with all the other food… at the shop.”

“ Arrgh, Owen you arse! It was my turn to cook, what am I going to do now?”

“ Not my problem.” Owen replied somewhat harshly considering he’d decided scratching his testicles was a far more relaxing way to spend an afternoon than go shopping.

“ Fine, bugger food tonight. Did you get that message from that guy?”

“ What you mean the chap who rang about investment and, or recruiting new players?”

“ Yeah. What do you think?”

“Well given his name comes up on google several hundred times for recent convictions of fraud I’m guessing it’s a no go area.”

“Ah well, so have to make do with what Jeff can offer then?”

“Yeah, we’re like any other conference side really- only without players.”

“You got the Uni boys, it’ll be good to see them again at pre-season.”

“We can’t use them again Sal! It’s ridiculous! No more druggies, drunks or stoners! I want a proper football team for God’s sake!”

“They almost did it last year and with this Telford break they deserve every chance!”

“ Damn right! Now let’s go for a chippy.”

Brian of Nazareth

Meanwhile on the industrial side of town, Rod Davies was sitting in a Vauxhall Astra owned by BSM Driving School, with a pale-faced instructor methodically counting up the errors. Rod knew it was bad, it took Chris 5 minutes to tally up.

“So Rod. How did you rate that drive?”

“ Well it wasn’t my bes-“

“ It was crap. 31 minors and 12 major errors on the card here. I had to use the dual controls twice and you racked a lot of errors up for mistakenly thinking the car ahead of you was waiting in a queue, when he had quite clearly parked his car on the side of the round. I even commented to you on the driver as he opened the door to his house.”

“ Um... Oops?”

“ Bus lanes are also a no-no, as are ignoring red lights, clipping curbs, never using your mirrors and thinking it’s ok to use the sidewalk to drive around a slow vehicle.”

“ I think I’m getting a clearer picture here…”

“ Please, don’t call me again.”

“ So you don’t think I have much of a chance?” Rod inquired hopefully.

“ Try again when not under the influence. It didn’t help – but no offence, a drive like this scared the hell out of me. I’ll take you back home as I don’t want to risk any incident.”

“ Nah, I’ll get out here and wander around if that’s ok. Sorry Chris.”

Rod stepped out of the car and only belatedly realised he had left the handbrake off as he watched Chris frantically trying to stop the car rolling round the bend. It hadn’t been the best of tests if truth be told. He hadn’t been drunk or high at all, that was an unfair slur but after stalling 5 successive times Rod came to the conclusion that public transport was in fact an excellent method of transport as he dug out his cell phone and began dialling.

“Hey mate, it’s Rodders here… yeah… no… I failed… pretty close actually, think I might get it next time…. Same place in about 30 minutes then?… sure, the usual crew coming along?…. good good. Can’t wait to pull on the kit once more eh?…. Right on mate. Anyway, in a bit.”

The “usual crew” consisted of Rod’s fellow friends from the season before, James Taylor and Richard Kelly were the regulars and towards the end other lads started to take an interest and forced themselves into contention as both Drew and Richard Whitty came on a few times. Heck, even Simon, “the Oxford one” had managed an appearance, even if it was as an 87th minute substitute.

They had gone off on their respective paths after school had ended, a few went travelling around the world, others started University courses and Jeff had even begun apprenticeship at an engineer firm on the south coast at Southampton. It seemed for many initially as if their bond would deteriorate over time and gradually they’d lose all contact with each other. However, the Worcester City cause proved a perfect occasion to maintain the bonds, and now, despite all the individuals having very different interests in studying and beyond, the common theme that kept them all together was playing for Worcester City. They weren’t regulars by any means but most weekends and normally every Tuesday and Thursday they had religiously turned up to training. A ritual that was habitually followed by a night on the town, usually at Tramps, or Bamboo if they could be bothered.

At the current time, most of them, along with a few other non-footballing friends were all heading to meet at The Postal Order, next to Foregate Street Station and opposite the Odeon cinema. It was a fairly regular event, especially since June had arrived, holidays were over and travels had ended.

Brian of Nazareth

Introducing Benny and Paul

Working behind the desk of the Worcester Evening News that day was Benny Broadhurst, a 22 year old man of stocky build from Hallow, a small town only 5 minutes outside of the city centre. Benny had been educated in the schools there, aided tremendously by his parents wealthy background in worm farming, a lucrative trade in the middle east, as Benny passed smoothly through the Grammar School and then completed a degree in Ecology at Wexford College before his entire family fortune went to pot when his parents were sadly and quite unfortunately, brutally murdered by rebels in Kuwait. Benny spent his inheritance on buying a house in London but it bankrupted the poor chap after his monthly maintenance bill came to £2.3 million. He then returned to his roots, and an old friend helped him land a job at the Evening News in the Sports Department.

It was he then who found the loose paper on the floor outside his boss’ room. Clearly the paper had in fact blown from the fan out of the room but being a curious type, a trait that cost his parents their heads, and by default their lives, he picked it up and surreptitiously slipped it into his pocket and returned to his little work station, a dull area of no more than 2 by 2 metres in shape. A computer, some memos and a picture of a 2-legged cat were all that surrounded Benny.

Unfurling the printed email next to his mug of lukewarm disgusting coffee, he began to read, and within minutes colleagues were inquiring as to why Benny kept sniggering to himself for no apparent reason. A deadline for all stories in the next 45 minutes didn’t seem particularly amusing to them. Benny declined to comment, as he carefully pocketed the note into his bottom draw, hidden under a mouldy packet of potato chips. Nice bit of potential blackmail there he thought, as he smiled to himself and returned his attention to completing the uninspiring article on how the Worcester Ravens were taking on the Droitwich Spa Swifts Under 14s in a friendly trial game in a week’s time. Summer was excruciatingly dull without his favoured Worcester City to report on. Just last week he had been asked to manage a “BIG news item” for the front page. It initially filled him with joy, only to learn that it was an analysis on whether or not there were enough bins on the street, hardly the stuff of dreams.

After completing the 180 word piece, Benny decided he was done for the day as he wondered out the door, turned right, crossing over the Severn, before ambling his way over to the cricket club, where a twenty-twenty game was taking place, and against rivals Warwickshire too. A fiery crowd of 450 had decided to turn up, the majority still sound asleep and over 60. He was sure some of them were dead. He hadn’t just come to watch a couple of men try and slog their heart out, nor had he come to see if the half time entertainment was any more lame than the last time he’d visited when a whole host of cartoon characters descended on the pitch at the interval and set up a circus act. It was a joke, and one that sadly hardly anyone appreciated. No, Benny was here to meet Paul Martin, one of the directors on the Worcester City board for an informal chat, as Benny was already preparing his masterful pre-season preview a good couple of months ahead of time.

A leisurely stroll past the refreshment stands found Paul a Canadian emigre, in charge of Finance and Sponsorship, casually laid back in his deck chair with a half full pint glass of Stella Artois in his left hand.

“ So Paul, good game then?” Paul turned around to meet his newly arrived companion.

“Oh hello there, Benny. Got yourself a beer there, good, good. Anyway, have a seat. Worcester aren’t doing particularly great at the moment, but I don’t think anyone really cares.”

“ Nah, I suppose not. 20-20 is a waste of space. Anyway, I guess it’s probably worth getting the business out of the way eh?”

“Good idea old bean. So, you know about Jeff [Daniels] then?”

“ Yes, read all about him and his colourful past. Is his property business doing well then?”

“Not bad actually, already his old magic has worked wonders. Now he’s put me in charge of arranging sponsorship deals and attracting new investors, and of course one good way of promoting the club is through the media…”

“ Think I’ve got it already Paul.”

“Heh, subtlety has never been my strong point, but yes I’m hoping you could play a role in this. You have your connections, however tenuous and I’d love you to make use of them. We’re looking for outside investment to aid the improvement, and generally to simply put your name out there for the fans to see. I’m sure there are plenty of folk who follow Worcester’s success half heartedly, whilst actually supporting one of the Premiership sides but we want them to come down to the ground and support the club properly.”

“ Might take a while for change to be noticeable…”

“Arh, I know, but we have to give it a good shot, and in return you can be our official club reporter if you like. Free tickets, exclusive interviews with the staff and players etc, you know the deal.”

“ Ok, Paul, I like the proposition. I’ll give it my best shot, and hopefully the old football side can improve it’s profile on and off the pitch. Put it there.” Benny extended his arm, shaking it firmly with Paul’s, as the two were both satisfied with today’s little business. Benny, electing not to watch the cricket any further, downed his glass and headed for the exit, and for once he was relishing the work

Brian of Nazareth

The Talbot

Gathered around the table are Rod Davies, James Taylor, Richard Kelly, Drew Bradman, Richard Whitty, Jeff Tipps, Shaun Rabbit and Dick Holder.

" So mate, how's it going?" Rod kicked off the discussion asking Drew.

" Not bad, you know, still with that lass now, been a year now, back of the net and all that. Medicine sucks, but hey I get to see dead people - or about-to-be-dead people so that's alright y'know? "

"Nice. Going to Leeds/Reading this year?"

" Nah can't be arsed - plus I don't have the money, it's a 200 quid weekend and I don't have that much spare. Probs focus on the footie I guess. Anyone else goin'?"

"Yeah for sure," Kel slurred, his 5th double vodka and coke taking effect.
"Sound as a, sound as a... eh?"

" Pound?" Drew offered.

"What are you?! A f**king genius!?! I was about to say that idiot!" Kel always denied he was an aggressive drunk.

" Just saying mate. Calm down. What about you Whits?"

" Nah, b*llocks to it. Sorry Rod - I have a girlfriend at last - "

" Pìss off!?" James splurted out in a far too surprised fashion. Whitty was not er, not the ladies man. In fact everyone else assumed he was gay. " But you like Savage Garden? I don't understand?" James was one of those fellows who loved to stereotype.

"Honestly mate, you have a very weird view of the world." Whits replied. " I'm as straight as your nose." James responded by punching himself in the face. " Oh very funny. Seriously, now you gotta stop being so weird. As I was saying, she's called Kate and we met last week at the book signing for Will Young..." A corus of ever so mature laughter ensued - even though they tried not to - it was just too much effort. " Ah screw you guys! Changing the subject again - how you guys feeling about the football?"

Having straightened himself up again, Dick was the first to reply. " I'm pretty happy about it to be honest. I've amazingly managed to keep in shape, go to the gym for about 4 hours a day, 4 days a week - it's good fun. However the fry ups and kebabs at the weekend kinda offset it I guess. Still - I reckon I'll be ok once training is all up and running again. You Whits?"

" I'll be ready in time I think - got a fitness programme I'm going to try and stick to if I can - a few runs here and there, but thankfully I've not been one to completely bloat out - unlike certain others here." a knowing snigger was accompanied by all present finishing their current tipple of choice.

" MY ROUND!" shouted Kel. " I' owe you’s all one! Sho, whets et to be?!"

" I'd like a glass of shut-the-f*ck-up-Kel if you're offering. You got the last one, now stop swaying and sit down. I'm getting this one." Shaun interjected before Kel went overboard. " Now who's having what?"

"Double vo..vo.. yeah same again!" Kel mumbled. To be honest everyone was shocked by the way Kel was acting at the moment - it was not like him - and there were worries that other factors had been getting him down.

" Er, right. What else?"

"Stella pint mate" ( Dick )

"Mini Guiness for me - that's Tia Maria and Baileys ok? With ice obviously." ( Rod )

" Reef ta" ( Whits )

"Just a coke mate - I'm driving" ( Drew )

" PANSY" (Kel)

"JD and coke cheers. Double obviously." ( James )

" And you Jeff, what do you want?" Shaun asked of his mate, who was still recovering from a particularly evil night at Metros in Cardiff the night before, where double spirits and a mixer were 99p.

" Oh er, pint of orange juice cheers - and nothing else PLEASE! " he grinned pleadingly, well aware of how his mischievous pals acted on occasions.

" Alright, no probs - back in a few minutes."

Turning matters back to football once more, Dick was still trying to find out how everyone was doing preparing for the coming season. He was concerned the others were settling in too easily to the University lifestyle. Fun though it was, binge drinking and pizza wasn't ideal preparation - even for the Conference standard of football. Further conversation wasn't promising and privately he suspected half of them would quit to pursue more recreational activities. Kel and Whits were almost certain non starters, whilst Jeff was a probable goner as well. Still - maybe not eh? Dick was the one most serious about his football, and actually longed for the chance to create a proper professional career out of the game. Worcester was the starting ground for him - and he was determined not to let the chance go to waste.

Brian of Nazareth

Birmingham Airport

Owen and Sally back from their very enjoyable, and tiring honeymoon in Mauritius, were now waiting for a ride back outside their terminal.

" Well, that was a f f fiiine week Sal." Owen smiled seductively before briefly kissing his wife.

" Oh yes. Oh yes. Great weather, great food, and I guess the company wasn't so bad." winked Sal as she returned the kiss.

" Heh. Right, now it's brill to know that I can change the subject to football without fear of a sulk..."

" I was wondering when you were going to get around to that! You get the message about the players, Joanne and all that coming back?"

" Yeah - should be good fun! Though I must admit I'm interested to see what Aidan's been up to now! Some familiar faces amongst all the Uni kids will be most welcome - God having a bunch of drunks on the team is certainly one way of motivating me to find some more players!"

" Ah come on, they're not all like that - wait until the season starts before you judge them - Dick Holder is -" she paused glancing at Owen sniggering again, for the 12th time – " oh come on Owen - not the kids fault now is it? But anyway he's keen so are a few others, you shouldn't be so quick to judge and stereotype people you know."

" I guess - but even so I remember Uni - getting wasted is some kind of raison d'etre when you're that age for most of them, even those keen on sports"

"Yeah, but they're also broke, and you'll be giving them wages for playing football - they wouldn't be stupid enough to pass that up you know."

Owen’s phone starting ringing. The theme tune from A Few Dollars More blurting out in synthesised keyboard tones.

“Yeah Owen here, oh hi Dick!

“Uh huh. Right – Well I guess I’m not too surprised – still nice to see a few of you there…”

“Yeah we should be good for players. Jeff has promised a bit of cash so shouldn’t have that situation from last time around.”

“Well thanks for letting me know. Ok, see you Monday week then for training. Bye Dick.” Owen hung up with his lips slightly pursed as he glanced over to Sally.

“That was Dick Holder, Sal, it seems a few of the lads won’t be joining us. Of the Uni lot it’s merely going to be Rod, James, Drew and Dick, the others it seems have dropped out.”

“Well, there you go, time to look out for more of the better players! See who you can pick up – hey, maybe even the old pros will come back to the club!”

“Well you never know… I’ll put a word into the Evening News and see if any of them get the hint…”

“Time to worry about it later… TAXI!”

Brian of Nazareth

Benny Broadhurst got the call from Owen later that afternoon and furiously typed up the calling card. It was good to see Owen looking to restore the bridges with the former players who all left in a rage of a storm last year when Worcester first under went a tumultuous entrance into the Conference.

Not long after the article went out a couple of calls from out of work footballers were ringing up Owen and Jeff about a return to the club and after a few short term contracts were drawn up. The semi pros were back, and the club was looking upwards once more, and Owen was determined not to waste this chance.

It would be a little interesting not having the eccentric characters in for a change, given the dressing room frolics of having Aidan and the Jo’s in the dressing room, not to mention Steve. Former assistant Steve would be missed, but with his ex-wife there the memories wouldn’t die.