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Okay.my first and probably only shot at this.So,please,be nice
INTRODUCTION
In a small town in southern Scotland there is a revolution taking place. A revolution that threatens to upset the nature of everything once known.
The small town of Gretna is host to a football club. A football club with big ideas. Previously famous for weddings only, Gretna has become the focus of Scottish football. Two men intend on taking this small club to the top and beyond. These men are chairman Brooks Mileson and manager Padraic Kennedy. Together they have formulated a masterplan to bring untold success to Gretna.With a transfer budget rumoured to outweigh even that of the old firm giants,Gretna have the resources to fulfill this promise.
Since Kennedy began his reign, the previously unknown Irishman has taken the first step. After a comfortable first season,Gretna strolled to the third division,31 points ahead of their nearest rivals East Fife. The loosened strings on the coffers meant Kennedy was able to bring in several players, Boston United's David Noble, David Van Zanten of St. Mirren among others. Rumours of a Brazilian import are still unconfirmed with Kennedy unwilling to publicly display his interest in RS Futebol's starlet Ederson. Te goals of Kenny Deuchar were a big factor in Gretna's promotion and he is not the only player attracting interest from more prominent clubs.
Unconventional in style, Kennedy has been criticised in the press for being arrogant and big-headed at times and certainly he has made few friends in the lower leagues. Early in the season a row with East Fife boss Jim Moffat covered the back pages of many newspapers, as Kennedy declared Moffat unfit to run a football team and that Fife were on a downhill slope. With East Fife taking the second promotion spot this battle is sure to spill over into next.
Juat last week, Gretna Football Club closed it's training ground for the summer. The players are taking a well deserved holiday after their seasons exploits. But behind the gates at Raydale Park the cogs in the minds of the two trailblazers are still turning at full pace.
Football grounds in the close season can be lonely places. Except for groundsmen doing the odd maintanance job, the stands and pitch are barren. Gretna's Raydale Park was no exception. The car-park at the back of the main stand was empty bar two vehicles. The white lines which had been painted on the summer before sparkled in the heat of the Scottish summer. The two vehicles belonged to the chairman and manager of Gretna. Brooks Mileson brand new Mercedes parked closely to the main entrance of the stand offices. The spotless exterior of the car gave the impression of a wealthy man. Beside it in a spot marked "Gaffer" was a 9-year old Vespa scooter belonging to the manager, Padraic Kennedy. Most of the paint had peeled off or was in the process of doing so.
Inside in the boardroom a heated meeting was taking place. Just the other day, Mileson had released funds for the coming season. 4 and a half million pounds was more than some Scottish teams had spent in their entire existence. But this was no ordinary football club.
Brooks Mileson sat patiently in his leather chair listening to his team's manager rant about the general condition of the stadium. Honestly, sometimes he felt it would have been easier to have gone after Capello. But he was stuck with this deranged Irishman. A good tactician and man manager but sometimes Mileson wondered if he was alright in the brains department.
"The stadium barely olds 2,000. How are we supposed to compete if our fans can't come to watch the games because we have no room for them. We need to invest soon" Kennedy concluded his speech in slur of words that Mileson recognised as the remnants of the Irishman's stereotypical morning pint of vodka.
Mileson decided he'd better chose his words carefully:
"Look, we've discussed this before. Until we move up the leagues further there is no feasible means to improve the facilities. Besides, there are barely 10,000 people in this village and half of them are WOMEN." Mileson uttered the last word with contempt. Too many times he had been distracted in his business by "love". He had always regretted not moving to Italy where women knew their place. The thought of men bringing their girlfriends and wives to Raydale park disgusted the Chairman. He was adamant thet Gretna was a family club,so long as the families were male.
Mileson had become so distracted by his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed Kennedy storm out of the boardroom in a fit of swearing.Ah well,you can't have it all,he mused. Ederson was arriving next week and he had to focus on making the place presentable for the Brazilian and his family. David Noble had to be told he was lose his place to an eighteen year-old as well. But Kennedy could do that,Mileson had never really been a people person.
The sun was beginning to set on the south coast of Spain. Gretna striker Kenny Deuchar walked alone along a white,sandy beach. All around him people were packing up to return to their apartments after a day in the water. He had only left Gretna two days ago but already he was starting to miss the place. Raydale Park seemed a long way away(which it was of course,but you get the idea). In Gretna he was somebody. Children stopped him in the streets asking for autographs. But here who was he? Just another tourist pumping money into the Spanish economy. Despite this, he couldn't rememeber the last time he had felt this good about life. He was scoring goals and Gretna were on the rise. He felt he owed a lot to his manager. Padraic Kennedy had picked him up from nothing and given him his career back. Still it would take much more to make him forget the demons that still haunted him from two years previously....
David Bingham was not the happiest of customers. He sat in his small apartment drinking from the bottle of whiskey he had acquired at an off-licsence in Newcastle.His drinking problems were notorious around Gretna and the club had asked all local premiseses not to supply him with alcohol. But across the border he was free to do what he wanted. Of course he still told his manager he was attending those AA courses. In reality he had dropped after the no drinking bit.
David Bingham was a remarkable footballer, however recently things hadn't been going so well. His place alongside Kenny Deuchar in the Gretna attack had been usurped by young Englishman Luke Ibbotsson. Towards the end of the season he found himself playing on the wing. Not his favoured position but he still excelled there.
This was the reason he had turned back to the bottle. After all, he was 34. Not the ideal time to be losing your place in the team. He still hoped to get new contract after his current one ran out. Football was all he had. He dropped out of school early and had never done a days work in his life. He needed to keep playing, but whether or not his future lay with Gretna or not was up for debate. His phone buzzed and rose and stumbled to answer it. Each ring felt like a sledgehammer to his head.
"Hello",he said wearily.
"David,how are you doing?"
Bingham recognised that idiotic accent immediatly. Although he couldn't quite visualise the face(for most of the time he spent at the club, he was intoxicated, for want of a better word). Padraic Kennedy was at this point the most hated figure in Bingham's miserable life.
"Really. Good. Still going to those sessions...Great to hear. You remember about next week,right...Yes we need all the lads at the club to welcome him...Grand,See you then so."
With that he hung up leaving Bingham to return to the comfort of his armchair.What a ******,he thought to himself. All the same if he wanted to have any chance of getting his place back he should probably show his face. Now,he thought, where did I leave that bottle?
The sun was shining again in the town of Gretna. It had been an Indian summer over the past two weeks. Almost 30 degrees Celsius every afternoon and as a result the ground at Raydale Park was rock solid. The sprinklers that had been set up tried in vain to keep the pitch in good condition but the grass had begun to turn a pale yellow in the heat.
There were similar problems inside the stand. The full squad of Gretna had gathered for a welcoming ceremony for the club’s latest acquisition, Brazilian Ederson. The air conditioning in the building had broken down and several players were sweating profusely.
David Bingham sat in one corner trying to keep himself warm, he had hoped he could sweat all the alcohol out of his system before his boss arrived.
That boss was Padraic Kennedy, who at that point in time was two floors above in the boardroom sweating over a completely different issue. He had been in a bad mood ever since the morning when he got out on the wrong side of the bed, banging his head nastily on the wall that blocked his path in the process. And now he had the problem of Ederson to deal with. The Brazilian had been delayed in Rio and was not due in Newcastle Airport for another two hours at least. He wasn’t going to enjoy explaining this to his assembled squad who had already been waiting impatiently for thirty minutes.
To be honest, Kennedy had been having severe bouts of homesickness recently. He missed Ireland. He had put so much effort into gaining the Gretna job that he insisted to himself that he was not unhappy in Scotland. There were much more qualified candidates applying for the job but he had taken care of them, all of them. The fear was always at the back of his mind that the bodies would be found soon. The season ahead would be his biggest challenge yet (just ahead of the time he had to get that bread out of the toaster using two forks ). He hoped this time there would be much less time spent in hospital waiting rooms. To pass some time he went over his starting line-up his mind:
Alan Main, 37 and out of contract, Kennedy wasn’t sure if he was up to the task of being number one for another season.
David Mathieson, Solid reserve keeper but not first choice material. A new keeper was high priority for Gretna.
He had two solid left fulls in Lee Maddison and Jamie Mc Quilken. In fact the entire back four was strong. Kennedy had invested heavily the previous year with Michael Smith, David Van Zanten and Stewart Greacen all arriving. Greacen in particular had been a smart signing, his aerial ability making him a big threat from set-pieces. So little work to be done there, he thought.
Midfield was strong but with Ederson coming, he would have to sort out some positional problems. David Noble, who had been a big force in the centre, would have to make way for a while to fit the Brazilian in. There was also the question of Ryan Baldacchino’s best position. He played a lot of last season on the left. 23 assists showed he was well capable of staying there but as he was right footed and Steven Tosh was as creative winger as Kennedy liked, he could be on the other wing come August. There was more congestion in the last midfield position. Steven Tosh, Fergus Tiernan and Richard Prokas all deserved places but someone would have to make way.
Up front Kenny Deuchar had his place cemented but it was who to play alongside him that troubled Kennedy. David Bingham had been enormous in getting Gretna promotion but Luke Ibbotson; Kennedy’s English prodigy had been on top form pushing Bingham back to left wing. This only served to create more trouble in midfield. Kennedy was also worried that Bingham’s alcohol addiction was starting to have an adverse affect on his performances
Kennedy knew that certain other managers terribly envious of the strength he had at his disposal but at the moment it was causing him nothing but trouble. He had several other players who were on the fringes of the squad and they were steadily becoming unhappy with there roles as backups. He knew it would be four four two again and he had little doubt that it would not be too difficult to gain successive promotions.
He glanced at his watch in a panic. He decided he should go talk to the lads, they had probably started with the effigies again. And the Irishman did not want a repeat of Cowdenbeath. It had taken hours to get them out of the dressing room, only for Fergus Tiernan to assault a fan within minutes of kick off. Whatever about suspensions, a jail sentence was not what Kennedy needed. Luckily, the fan was kept quiet and no charges were made. But he didn’t want to try it again. Not for a few years anyway.
Gretna: A Newcomer's Odyssey 
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