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The Waiting Game

The week that had followed since that initial meet up with Jack Warner on the football pitch had seen early developments already in Mickey's desire to make it big at professional level. His efforts had not gone un noticed, and though it was of course true many passers by were more taken by the sight of a two foot tall kid mixing it comfortably with kids more than twice his size, there were a few footballing men with a keen eye for talent, who had taken down his name, and had a quick word with Jack in private.

Mickey meanwhile had taken the advice given to him on board - he maintained the fitness regime given to him, and looked to work on his distribution skills, with help given by his willing brother and father who relished aiding Mickey's unlikely quest. In one form or another he'd be out practicing and preparing for 8 hours a day, and the fine tuning of his ball control picked up considerably as a result. The hard work was already paying dividends early on and with sustained efforts, his confidence in his ability grew further, as his personal doubts dissipated. He also realised how many players could play at least at conference level if they put the effort in. The change in his game over just a work - combined with a really healthy diet had provided him with a platform to work from.

Of course it was hardly likely to be as easy as that, as Jack had warned him after a couple of days of hard training. " Mickey, I'll be honest again. Remember, even though we could get you a trial, and even if you get in, there's still a great deal of work to do to even make it to and then establish yourself in the first team. Don't forget that." The words were obvious, but necessary and they didn't go unappreciated.

On the fourth day after the first try out, Mickey had been introduced to one of the scouts watching the training. He was open minded and complimentary. Representing Burscough, he offered to take Mickey on a two day trial to give him the opportunity to impress the manager Shaun Teale - the former Aston Villa defender no less. It had been an offer Mickey was willing to consider, and almost jumped into a response before Jack calmly restrained him. Jack, speaking on his behalf, postponed the offer, telling the bespectacled gentleman he'd receive an answer the following week.

Mickey was initially angry at this interjection but was soothed with Warner's response. The talent had been spotted at a higher standard, and there were rumours that, in the friendly pitched with Hartlebury U18's on the Wednesday, there would even be some league representatives, coaches, scouts and perhaps the odd manager at the match. It had been well publicised that Owen Newitt of Kidderminster Harriers would be doing the local rounds, and soon Mickey's optimism returned.

Now, was the eve of the match itself, and Knick Knack could barely sleep. Try as he might, nothing would settle him, as thoughts ran through his mind of what would happen tomorrow. He kept reminding himself not to build up the match any higher than necessary. It was a friendly match and the pressure was little. Expectations on the neutral would not be too high - all he had to do was play his game, keep running and show what he could do. A decent impression would equal another chance, and possibly that shot at glory he'd always aimed for.

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The Game

Owen Newitt had established his network of scouts for a more thorough nationwide search, and had even tabled early bids to young free talents from the continent, expected to bolster the numbers in midfield, before deciding to tour the parks in the final week before the pre-season match with Worcester City. One match, of course, he would be taking in was the game in which Mickey Swarfiga was playing in. He had not been tipped off by any names and consequently knew not what to expect, but all the same by 4pm that Wednesday he was there on the sidelines amid a crowd that must have totalled near to 150.

Jack was present too, casting an eye around the spectators trying to spot the talent scouts on display for this mere friendly. Indeed other kids' parents seemed somewhat bemused by the extraordinarily high turnout. With Hartlebury lining up in blue shirts, black shorts, and Droitwich Spa in the traditional red and black strip costs, the wind seemed to die down moments before the referee - in the traditional black strip blew the whistle to kick off the match.

Mickey, settled on the left wing, was something of a bystander in the early encounters with a great deal of the match based on the other side of the pitch, but after his side successfully defended a corner, his new team mates broke out swiftly, and Mickey received the ball on the touchline just shy of the halfway line. With all eyes on the highly diminuitive figure, Mickey began to run at the defender in front of him. The bulky 6 footer seemed to grin as he came towards Mickey, looking to simply kick the ball away, but as his gangly leg arched back ready to intercept, Mickey pushed the ball past the defender's left leg, and ducking, ran right between the shocked defenders legs, with a flaying right arm catching the teenager where it hurts. It excited the on-lookers now as he kept running with the ball down the flank before sending a cross field pass to the inside left about 20 metres away. The move broke down fairly swiftly but the first glimpse had been sighted.

The rest of the first half continued in the same vein with Mickey gaining from break outs, and fast attacks, whilst when play had moved to the other wing his involvement was drastically minimised. Still, he played the short passes, used his brain and kept his position well - the best he could do until a more opportune moment arrived. The match wasn't without negatives for Mickey though, and his height did ensure that any long balls sent his way had a tendency to bounce over him or out of play. Where an average player would collect a bouncing ball on their midrift, Mickey struggled to head it back into play. By half time, and with the score at 2-1 to Hartlebury, the oranges were more than welcome.

A few of the scouts began talking amongst each other, but Jack kept the side focussed on completing the game and doing all they could without trying to do what they patently couldn't. Keep it simple was the message and in the second half, that is how it began to be panned out. In a ten minute spell of long ball football, Mickey was clearly nothing more than a spectator, but with patience his chance arrived, and it was taken upon with relish. Again, he collected the ball wide left, and this time he cut back inside.

His pace and agility was frightening - as the opponents fearing tackling him and accidentally kicking him in the head. When one plucky centre back advanced to try and push him wide, he was left gaping as the ball was flicked through his legs, and a darting Mickey nipped round him collected the ball and headed goal wards. With players closing, he did pass inside to Jay Doe, a striker, and took up a more central position around the 'D'. Evading the glances of a watchful defence proved simple enough - as he used his physical attributes to considerable advantage. As Doe tried to battled into the area, a challenge arrived poking the ball out into the path of the waiting Mickey. There was only one place this ball was going. A quick check to control it, Mickey reared back and swung a vicious foot at it, and then watched gleefully as it curved high over the defenders and the stranded goalkeeper who didn't see it until it was two late, and the scores were tied.

If that was seen as the centrepiece to Mickey's display this afternoon, then the outswinging cross with ten minutes go for Paul Sharpe to head in was the crowning glory. A wonderfully flighted ball was met with the piercing forehead of the striker to ensure victory. However, the game wasn't about the result - enjoyable though it was, and at full time, a very short of breath Mickey, stumbled off the park towards the dressing room, his thoughts split evenly between: showers, oranges and talent scouts.

Of those scouts and coaches and managers in attendance, at least twenty went back with positive details to report, and many shared a few anecdotes about the cute little midget on the wing. One though was impressed enough to talk to Jack Warner. It would be pointless hiding his identity - it was of course Owen Newitt. The Kidderminster manager, over a possible trial over the next couple of days. With the invitation accepted, Owen began his journey back home to tie up other loose ends, leaving Jack to tell a very knackered Knick Knack some very exciting news.

retired_jgirl87

I'm absolutely loving this, BoN. Great story-telling. :thup:

retired_bootcamp_nat

Great start BoN!

Slowly unravelling to all it's glory.

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Mickey read the article again, this time letting his parents read over his shoulder. As could be expected perhaps but he'd lost the will to care if people were going to be cynical. He was the professional footballer now and jealousy would only be par for the course. Finishing it, he again looked up at his parents, grinned and hugged them like a maniac again. They embraced and just offered congratulations again - he'd done it - and they were proud of their son. The determination in the face of a resistant public was to be admired. They knew this was no guarantee of any kind of a career but it was the start - the chance Mickey had craved.

Signing on the line at 50 pounds a week, Mickey didn't expect to be mixing it in the first team for a while, and even thoughts of a loan to a lower league side had been broached to keep him in competitive action. The elation that carried over from when Jack had first told him of the news hadn't particularly subsided in the days that had followed. The signing was more or less imminent. A trial the day after the match, and by 2pm he'd been dressed up in the red and white kit of the Harriers, a Division 3 outfit. The evening had passed by with great celebrations and alcohol supped. Mickey took it a bit too far and egged on by his siblings ended up regretting the midnight jape:

too much for Mickey

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Mickey was pleased with how his first appearance in a professional club's colours had gone, and in front of his parents too he'd certainly performed to above expectations. Indeed the pirouette before being subbed, to deceive two closing defenders had received a ripple of applause as it soon led to an incisive cross - one unfortunately not capitalized on. Whilst hardly the world beater no-one was expecting, he had performed himself creditably and was worthy of his place in the side. Given his tender 17 years of age, there was plenty of room for improvement.

Now, with that behind him, his early nerves had further waned. By competing with adults he had made another crucial step towards his dream career. At the present moment he was sitting in the stands at Aggborough just looking out onto the pitch, where the groundsmen were resurfacing the grass in preparation for the season's debut with Hartlepool in three days time. With a slight autumnal breeze in the air, Mickey's contented disposition was broken by the return of manager Owen Newitt with his lukewarm coffee.

" So Mickey, how'd you enjoy the match with Worcester?"

"I loved it, boss. Thanks for taking a chance on me."

"Hey, everyone deserves an equal chance don't they? I saw you in that Droitwich match and you really impressed me - like you did the other scouts watching, and the fans who were surprised by how well you did the other night. I can only imagine that sometimes you may feel societies not exactly on your side, but it takes guts to prove the doubters wrong - and I think you can do that. How far you go now is up to you!"


"Cheers, again. So how involved do you see me being in the first team for now?"

"Well at present, you're still a little way off. You have potential but if you keep working you'll be there. We've got experience on the left, and two to three other alternatives for the right wing this season. You will get your chance, I can guarantee that, but we'll help prepare you more for that level in reserve football, or maybe even taking a loan."

"Oh ok. "

"Don't take it the wrong way kid - you have talent, it's why John Deakin and I are happy to have you on board, but I won't build your hopes up unfairly. Anyway, you're always on the fringes. Any injuries and your chance may come sooner than you think! I've spoken with your friend Jack and I know the drill. Be proud you've made it this far, and I'll see you in training later this afternoon. I've got to get out of here - sort out a bit of paperwork and prepare for the match on Saturday. Got your ticket?"

"Yeah, I'll be there, cheer the boys on!"

"Aye, good good. Just watch and learn, see how it goes, and when you get your chance, profit from it. Well, take care Mickey, and see you post match then."

Owen left his new charge to contemplate his sudden change of surroundings, before leaving to continue his search for an available goalkeeper, talented and willing to sign for peanuts. It wasn't the easiest of tasks so far. For Mickey. he soon left the club's ground and returned home. He thought of the first step he had made and of the how hard he would need to work to establish himself as a regular player. With a good healthy meal inside him, it was back off to the training ground once more.

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A day on the sidelines had still been an enjoyable one for Mickey, as it allowed him to have a shot at evaluating his new side. They certainly played well enough in parts, whilst those on the wing in his position would clearly provide stiff competition. Thed result was disappointing and he did hope the club signed a decent keeper sooner or later as the two current young blokes were certainly not that terrific, despite having youth on their side.

Of course old friends were now calling him up congratulating him on the move, asking when he would be playing and the occasional cheeky request for free tickets to the next match. They only cost ten quid the blinking cheap skates! After enjoying a very relaxed Sunday - in which he hit a few golf balls with his dad, chatted about the football in general with dad placing another one of those season predicting accumulators for all the leagues - Manchester United, West Brom, Cardiff, Rushden and Doncaster - he took in a rented movie with his brothers and sisters - with home made popcorn for that sad extra cinema effect, he took in an early night ahead of training again.

On the Monday it was back into training and once he'd got out of his specially adapted car, he was soon met by his new team mates - well those who had arrived early on, as they stole a march on the warm up and playing a bit of champions doubles until the others arrived. Needless to say Mickey did pretty crap when it came to his turn in goal. With his jump and an outstretched hand only going just above halfway to the crossbar. It took only an hour or so before one James Bond fan - Drewe Broughton made the allusion to Nick Nack from The Man With The Golden Gun and the nickname swiftly stuck once more. However, always better to be recognized, Mickey grinned to himself - and essential to have a sense of humour too.

The session itself proved as enjoyable as it was tough, with Mickey recognizing this would seriously keep him in fit shape if nothing else. The bonds within the side were already fairly close for those already present and it was a fine feeling to be welcomed so warmly into the fold by the others. Hell, he found it very easy joking with Dean Bennett a player who was occupying one of the roles he was in competition with. Early days seemed to highlight Adie Smith as the practical joker in the side. He'd labeled Mickey's peg as the one highest to the ceiling - but he also placed a few 'steps' underneath it - ensuring Mickey felt he had to climb up to get there.

The rest of the weeks sessions continued in the same vein, with Mickey discovering Wednesday was clearly the more enjoyable day - when all the 5-a sides and scrimmage's took place, and running was at minimum. The banter continued to flow freely amongst all the players, although Bo Henriksen the striker always came across as somewhat distant from the others. He was better than the others here, so maybe he felt a little too good for the present company. Either way Mickey found it hard to get to know the Dane, not that he minded too greatly as he chatted away idly his experiences so far with friends down at the park.

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Owen Newitt

For Owen Newitt, the match had proved highly disappointing despite his public praise for the efforts shown. Yes, they had played well but the defensive errors and goalkeeper slips were too basic for his liking. John Danby spent the next couple of days on intensive ball handling training with Deaks, as Stuart Brock seemed even shakier at the present time. His potential signing was also taking longer than expected, and it was very unlikely a signature would arrive before the weekend clash with Rochdale or maybe even the League Cup tie at Scunthorpe.

That aside, he was pleased that his two young signings had integrated themselves comfortably within the squad as both Rombo and especially Mickey had felt a bit of pressure to prove themselves amongst their peers. Mickey indeed had certainly helped revise a few outdated opinions, although the number of midget jokes had increased exponentially. With a tight reign on finances though he would have to really focus on motivating the players this season. Owen was looking forward to it - he had enjoyed the previous challenge of managing other local clubs - especially at Worcester where he had been used to working with young stars - albeit nobodies.

This time around he had the professionals - and hopefully he could really make a name for himself here. Ever since he was a kid he had been a fanatic of the sport. Playing at any substantial level had never been an option due to two key factors: lack of talent and application. Once he'd grown up however, the dolldrums of his part time work in various fast food eateries or various antique stores wore him down, and he decided he had to try and least live a dream or go nuts. That's when the Worcester City job came up - taking on a team with literally no players whatsoever, and having to find a bunch of willing locals to team up in an experimental side. Success had been gradual but they had survived a first season in the conference, before making a spirited charge for promotion - as Owen left a side now burgeoning with semi pros and ex pros at the helm to guide the club along.

He took on a spell at Bromsgrove Rovers too - bringing them back up to a credible level once more - since their drastic fall from grace in 1998 when they were relegated from the Conference. It was a relegation that spawned further drops down into the West Midlands Combined Counties Division. In his two years at Victoria Ground, promotions and a development of the youth on site enabled the club to look to a future where returning to the Conference is a viable possibility. He left there due to personal reasons of his own - he needed to treat his young wife Sally Swallow who was suffering from a semi serious form of Leukemia. Thankfully she did recover, and with a full head of hair once more - you'd never know what she'd been through but it had taken a substantial amount of energy out of Owen, resulting in a short break from the game.

However, once re-energised there was a look to get back into the sport and continue his career in management. Of course it took a stroke of luck as Ian Britton decided against becoming a permanent boss after a short caretaker spell, but one Owen was now determined to grasp with both hands. Back at home with Sally, he continued talking with her about the side's potential fate, whilst also reminiscing over times past at Worcester - especially sharing jokes at the time both her and another lady Joanne had to play for the first team due to a complete absence of willing players.

The next match at home to Rochdale was fast approaching and Owen hoped his players earned the just rewards for their efforts put in. With Danby working 1-2-1 with John Deakin, the defence would hopefully actually have some confidence in their goalkeeper