Brian of Nazareth

There is an old adage that goes: "It's not always greener on the other side." It is rather irrelevant to this story, but it is an old adage, and that is how it goes. Life is full of quirky witticisms which are used as an allegory for so many aspects of our day to day lives, and often get quoted ad infinitem until it is said one too many times, and either - as is usual - suddenly descends into the realms of "oh my god, that's so CLICHED, for the love of God stop tormenting my ears!!" - or alternatively it's blasted off into the unknown realms of deep space where it's conveniently carried into a black hole from which it never recovers. The only exception to this being: "Life's A Bitch."

For Mickey Swarfiga, it was a phrase he had become quite familiar with in recent times. As a youngster, life had been as normal as could have been expected for a guy of his standing. He enjoyed the loving support of a nuclear family, had two brothers and two sisters who all revelled in spending plenty of fun times together, whilst growing up in a very peaceful suburb, away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life, his experiences on a superficial level could well be described as a fortunate one thus far.

Of his talents, he was a skilled musician on the keyboard, and had often had thoughts of forming a band and making a serious effort of it, but like so many budding 'rock stars' he was rejected, though he often felt it wasn't for the musical ability. Sporting wise, again he liked to think of himself as able to hold his own in a few competitive sports. He performed well in racket sports especially, though football was his main passion. Football was the reason he looked forward to every saturday - making a trip down to Villa Park, to watch Villa struggle or excel dependant on their fortunes. He cheered the goals and, booed the insipid, but regardless of the result, the thrill of the atmosphere and camaraderie never failed to encapsulate Mickey.

Like so many young boys - his dreams were full of re-living and excelling his heroes on the park. That moment of glory when the never-say-die-effort clinches a victory right at the death, or even from the lower league view where a late goal earned a replay and attention from the baying media. Mickey had them too - and as ever he always knew he would never make it in his own right. He knew that he could never attain the heights he dreamed of. Though in practice one might observe his talents with some admiration - he was pacey, tenacious and his ball control was phenominal, but Mickey's physical status seemed always to weigh heavily on everyone's minds.

It had weighed on Mickey's mind too - and though he'd had several years to realise it, he was acutely aware of the stigma he faced due to a prejudice society that fears that which is not normal. The jokes were constant, though they were thinning out as he and his peers grew with maturity, but Mickey had for the most part tried to let it go by. It was difficult. This summer morning though, he awoke with a new determination. The happy pop music on the radio seemed to invigorate rather than irritate that morning - and though he couldn't pinpoint exactly why, he felt a sudden urge - a need to not let societies norms become a barrier to his life. He would make it, he thought - and he would go for trials at clubs. Enough was enough, now, was the time for Mickey Swarfiga to be noticed for the right reasons, as the 17 year old jumped out of bed with renewed enthusiasm. It would be difficult of course, but he would overcome it, he'd scale the heights.

Mickey, showered, dressed in sports atire, and checked himself in the wall mirror. A self assurance seemed to breeze over him as he looked with unexpected hope to a future, of changing opinions and making his mark. He'd do it. A nod to himself, he climbed the stool opened the door and walked downstairs. At barely two foot tall, this would be one hell of a challenge.

Spav

[breaks into grin]

Interested to see where this goes, BoN.

Brian of Nazareth

so am I frankly

Day 1

Mickey's first step, after completing his morning shift, behind the counter at the local 24 hour Spa, was to get out onto the local village park with a ball. It was training time. When he was to make the calls to local clubs and speak to former coaches, he wanted to be in the best of shape possible, to make the greatest impression he could. With the sun beaming down on the deliciously green, freshly cut grass, Mickey began the first step, sprints, warm ups and basic ball control first. For a man of less than average height, one might have thought building the body up completely pointless, but he did it anyway. Using kids toys as weights and a climbing frame for pull ups, Mickey was on the move. The stereo blasting Survivor's Eye of the Tiger at full volume, and the perspiration building.

After two hours of hard graft, it was lunch break time, and only a true sportsmans diet. Pasta, fish, two banana's and a protein shake, followed by a bag of maltesers. King Size. Having disposed of the crap in a trash can, it was back out on that testing pitch. Now for the f*cking ball control. Kick ups, step overs, and weaving it through a slect line of conveniently handy orange cones stolen from the nearby roadworks. Once, then twice, Mickey got so caught up he accidentally ran headfirst into two of them, but he never gave up. Hell no, only pussies quit.

By the end of the three hour session the ball was his best friend, his woman, he could coax it and play with it anyway he wanted to. He caressed it, before drilling it in with sublime accuracy. The sweat ran off his forehead, his t-shirt drenched, in the salty beads. Removing the garment, he revealed the slightly flabby, yet strangely athletic looking, chest, as he draped it over his shoulder, picked up the sports bottle, suckled the teat ravenously, and walked over to his equipment bag, and then sat back against it, reflecting upon the day just gone, and his hopes for making it.

He'd need to do this everyday, and work his tiny ass off, but maybe, just maybe, records could be broken. He'd be the smallest professional by a clear two foot and a half, the incentive was there. The money, the fame, the success, the women, the blowjobs... at this point Mickey was well aware he was dreaming, not that he cared.

Later that evening, in his room he shared his thoughts with his family - who were shocked at his plans, they tried to warn him away. He'd come under intense scrutiny again - and being in the public eye, only opened the floodgates to more jokes and intense patronism from an ignorant media and public. They also doubted his actual ability to make it too, suggesting perhaps a special sports club, for differently abled folk - which only served to anger Mickey. He'd always just wanted to be treated the same and the suggestion insulted him. Why did people think height mattered? Why were they so stunned to see a very short man? It was ridiculous and just another reason why he was already filled with an intense desire to succeed. Retiring to his room, Mickey stuck on the stereo and dreamed the dreams again - this time filtered with a self belief he could do it. Van Halen, Jump.

OMDave

Good start, well written and funny. Hope it develops to your satisfaction (and to ours) :thup:

Brian of Nazareth

cheers!

Calling In An Old Friend

Though he felt he was fighting a one man battle thanks to his family's cynicism, Mickey carried on in his quest to satisfy his drfeam of being a professional footballer. Even a contract at a Conference side would be a foot in the door and a significant start. His first call to his primary school teacher hadn't gone down too well, not least because Mr. Teradact couldn't remember him ever being there, not even when prompted he was the midget. Apparently they were all two foot tall back then.

Next on the list was Jack Warden, the coach for the local park side. He'd seen Mickey at under 10 and 12 level and been vaguely impressed once he pushed past the obvious defects. Mickey hoped for better luck with him. Reaching for the phone he felt a pang of nerves strike him in the bowels. Negative answers still upset him and he hoped he wouldn't get another here.

"Hello? Who is it?"

" Hey Jack, it's Mickey Swarfiga, you remember me?"

"Sure kid. How could I forget! How's life treating you know? You outta school yet?"

"In between, finished GCSE's couple a weeks back. Not sure if I'm gonna go any further though."

"Uh huh. So what's up kiddo? What can I do for you?"

"Well, now don't laugh, but well you can imagine that sometimes I feel as though there are only so many jobs that I can do..."

"Hey, Mickey, as I always said, go for the job you want. F*ck your height - employers can't discriminate on that."

"Yeah, I know it's just, well I'm thinking I want to live a kids dream..."

"I see, I think I -"

"I wanna be a footballer Jack."

"Now kiddo. I can see why you want to do that. Everyone wants it. But you know, I had this lad the other day, who can do the works, hard worker, scores goals and has the natural skill - yet even I know he won't make it professionally. Maybe a conference player, Division 3 at the best. Now he's a kid who is gonna have to bulk up considerably to play at that level Mickey."

"Yeah and? I'm not that kid. I'm me, Mickey Swarfiga!"

"I know! And you got the desire, you got the application I'm sure, and I remember, you got talent for a - , you got talent boy."

" So what else do I need!?"

"Mickey. Listen to me. I don't like to say it, but I'm afraid this is where you do have a disadvantage. But! It's the same disadvantage other folk of average height have. Some kids are too thin, too fat, too lazy, too crap... you're too small. I know you don't want to -"

"Hey! It wasn't a problem when you played me was it? Come on let's be real, just cause I'm a midget doesn't me I don't deserve the same chance to at least try and reach my goals does it? You know... you talk of people who judge before they know anything... you're doing the same Jack!"

"Mickey! Listen, I respect you, you are a good player but -"

"Just give me a chance Jack. That's all I ask - I just want a god damned chance! At least I've tried! I just don't want to look back and say well I just assumed I wouldn't get anywhere... just think about it!"

"Ok, Mickey, I'll do that. I'll think about it, but now I have to go. I'll give you a call tomorrow."

"Bye."

Mickey hung up the handset and reflected a moment. Just a chance, that's all he wanted. He deserved it didn't he? Of course if ended up in the same company of players again, he was likely to return to his nickname Knick-Knack, named after the little fellow in The Man With The Golden Gun - but hey it was a funny name - he could have a sense of humour when he wanted to. He turned back to his bed, lay back and switched on the stereo - Placedo 36 Degrees.

Brian of Nazareth

Tyrone the Magazine

Great start keep it up :thup:

Brian of Nazareth

thanks Tyrone

A Friend In Need, A Friend Indeed

Mickey had been waiting for the call for a few hours, in eager anticipation. After an early morning start a 5am, in which he continued the physical aspect of his training, with Start Me Up the song of choice to get him going, before the protein slanted meal to help bulk up further. Ball control as usual soon followed and Mickey was actually alreayd earning support from his parents - who were somewhat embarrassed by their comments before - and certainly proud of their sons efforts to prove the doubters and the world wrong. Eventually the ringing began.

" Hello Jack!?"

"Hey kiddo. It's me. Ok. Short answer, but you're right, you do deserve a chance. Listen if you come across to the park around 3, we can see where we're at and I'll do my best to help you. We'll set up a programme to give you the best chance, but there's no quittin' if we start ok?"

"Don't worry about that Jack! No chance, cheers!"

"It's ok Mickey. I felt kinda guilty anyway. There'll be a match or two coming up in friendlies anyway for the kids soon enough, so I'll chuck you in them both, they're Under 16 level and very talented. You do well in those matches I'll have a chat with a few contacts and see if I can't set up a trial with the local sides - maybe even Worcester or Kidderminster."

"Wow! Cheers Mr. Warner, I appreciate you giving me the chance."

"I'll see you at 3 then."

"Ok, see you later!"

There was a renewed surge through Mickey's small frame as he allowed his thoughts to run wild again. He stopped off downstairs to inform his docile mum of proceedings before constructing another meal heaving with nutrients and vitamins, and completely absent of anything remotely exciting - the nearest being his small glass of diet vanilla coke. Mickey showered again - simply to pass the time, before flicking through Tony Adams highly depressing autobiography until the clock ticked over. Finally, he looked up and he saw that it was time.

With the welcome encouragement of his father's words ringing in his ears, he walked out the front door, and headed left down the street towards the Park, just reminding himself over and over that he could do it, and more to the point he would do it. Turning up the short down trodden path, he could already hear the excited shouts as the end of the juniors training session seemed to be coming to an end. Reaching up with some difficulty he eventually unlocked the gate, and he heaved the small gate open. There, before him was his old coach and mentor from younger years waiting for him.

" Afternoon Jack!

"Hey kiddo. Are you ready? Are you ready for love? Sorry - got that song in my head. Don't worry. Anyway - the others are just packin up. You can go and do a warm up if you want and then we'll get cracking!"

So off Mickey went, performing the usual rites, stretching those little limbs, and running to the halfway line and back - effectively a marathon for the poor sod, before returning all freshened up for the examination. Jack watched over as Mickey danced around with the ball under his control. He nipped in and out the marked cones, played the passes to the cardboard cut outs, and shooting into the net, aided by the presence of some young kids still left over. The skills were impressive and Jack watched on, pleased with how young Mickey was doing. The more he played, and the longer without a break the more he thought, that maybe, just maybe there could be a way. His stamina was remarkable for one so small, and his pace, was electrifying - it would be hard for many to cope - as here is size was a definite advantage. He looked up to see mickey just steal in, through the legs of one kid in particular - and the realisation upon Jack was sudden. Maybe - just maybe he could!

Brian of Nazareth

Newitt Examines The Squad

Owen Newitt had been in charge of the squad for just the one week by the time he decided to draw up an overall picture of the players available to him. The short answer was that it wasn't particularly pretty. Although the standard of Division 3 wasn't the highest, there were still too many inadequate talents in the squad. Of course the majority of the side seemed to be under 24 so there was always hope for improvement, but Owen knew there would be little advancement in most of the players there.

The next best task would be to simply work with them as best he could - search for a goalkeeper to add experience, and try and bring in a few young numbers to bolster the squad's survival prospects this year. Donald may have suggested a decent mid table position but the squad suggested not getting relegated would be an achievement to be celebrated. The following week would be spent scouting out the immediate vicinity, and nearby parks - might as well revisit old hunting grounds first. Why go miles when there's potential talent on the doorstep?

In time honoured tradition the squad list was fashioned thus, and requiring a goalkeeper was a glaring necessity early on.

Goalkeepers:

Stuart Brock 24 y/o and a half baked talent. He may be young but he's a liability between the sticks - at least that's what first impressions suggest after several shots beat him through his legs and over his head, and to his left, his right and probably right through him too. Remarkeably until a replacement is found - he is going to be first choice :o

John Danby 17 y/o and highly inexperienced. Has only just signed professional terms - but despite youth he's probably as good as Brock. Unlikely to make the grade, but with age on his side, will be used as the number 2 for whoever is brought in as number 1.

Conclusion: Walk on, walk on, with gloves in your hand, through the doors, and get tae feck!

Defenders:

Lee Ayres 18 y/o SW/DRC, he's most skilled in dribbling, but that's just because he can't drink properly. Knows the basics of a centre half and will probably be involved initially, but young kiddo.

Craig Hinton 23 y/o DRC, wants a new contract, and after having been a regular last season is probably a justified request. However, Owen will probably wait to see how he turns out. He has pace on his meaning, a likely start on the right flank.

Ian Joy 20 y/o, DL, an American with talent. Will be the first choice left back. Very determined and speedy.

Sam Shilton 23 y/o D/AML, son of the great Peter. A very competent player, he'll be playing up in midfield, but will be available to cover Ian where necessary.

Scott Stamps 26 y/o D/DML, Another player with speed to burn and determination to boot - he adds competition to what is a surprisingly strong left flank.

Mark Blake 30 y/o D/DMC, an experienced old hand, formerly of Mansfield, Walsall and Leicester, he'll be vital in providing an old head in a young back line, whilst also adding the versatility of potentially playing in the midfield.

Abdou Sali 20 y/o DC, he's young but he's got the talent at this level - may need a few old hands to bring him on, but can be relied upon to put the tackles in where needed.

Adam Smallman 17 y/o DC, a very tall commanding defender. Adam is one for the future. Experience and the pressure of the first team might be a little daunting now, but over time he should grow to enjoy it.

Adie Smith 28 y/o DC, well he's about average for this level. He's got experience so he'll clearly play but not a long term prospect if the kids develop as they could during the year.

Conclusions: Mixed bag - some good, bad and average. Additions not a priority yet.

Midfielders

Sean Parrish 29 y/o MLC, the experienced former Cobbler is one of the more creative outlets in the side and will be a starter in the first team. Playing both wide and inside left, Sean will be seen as one of the main attacking threats with his incisive passing, and well delivered crosses.

Sean Flynn 33 y/o MRC, another one of the old hands - Sean will be a key figure in the side when fit, with his vast experience in the higher leagues. He's taken a drop down with Kidderminster and the youngsters should appreciate working with him.

Danny Williams y/o 22 MC - young, average talent who's main positive is his attitude. He seems to be a hard working fellow, with a decent eye for a pass. However - not the strongest of men so cannot be relied upon to add the bite in the centre. Probable fringe role.

Lee Yates 17 y/o MC - even younger, and of a similar talent to Danny. Lee will flit in between reserves and the first team as and when seems appropriate to develop his ability.

Nick Heath 16 y/o AMR - fast, skilful and one hell of a shot on him - Nick is a talent for the future. As an out and out winger he will also get his chances this season. He's one of the talents Owen hopes will be a real star for the club.

Andy Ducros 23 y/o FRC - well, er not a striker, not fantastic on the right either. He's got some ability in him, he can play a pass and make a tackle - but nothing stands out with Andy. He scored 2 goals in 34 appearances last season - hardly the sign of a prolific forward. May be kept to provide competition on the right until a replacement arrives.

Dean Bennett 23 y/o AMRC - decent - nothing more, nothing less. More experience than Heath is all that's keeping him ahead for now. Will have to do well to keep place in the long term.

Conclusions: lightweight - need some bite in the centre, and possible additions to the right wing.

Strikers

Bo Henriksen 26 y/o SC - the Dane is the most talented striker, and perhaps player at the club with a real eye for goal and he does have class. Early hints of unhappiness though could prove problematic. Hopefully a good start to the season could help change his mind.

Ian Foster 26 y/o FRC - he's average, but consistent. He'll play the target man role and generally be a nuisance. He will never be a world beater and this is definitely his highest level but reliable all the same

Matt Lewis 18 y/o SC - young lad, with potential. He'll get a few games, but can't be relied upon to score the goals the club need.

Drew Broughton 22 SC - able, but looking to move. He's not renowned for being a serious striker, and his future is in doubt. However until replacements arrive he'll definitely be in the mix.

Conclusions: weak, and lightweight. Seeking a loan move could be wise, but goals needed.

Brian of Nazareth

Tech details: CM 0102, with the .68 patch

leagues running: forground - England with conference
background: Argentina, Denmark, Holland, Northern Ireland, Republic of Ireland, Italy, Spain, Sweden, Scotland, Wales