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It's 2 AM, the phone rings. I wearily pick it up "Is that Dan Stone?" the voice asks "yes it is, who the hell is this at this hour?" I demand.
The events of the next ten minutes go by in a flash but the gist of it is this: the entire management team at Nottingham Forest have been shot dead by dwarves on safari and i, Dan Stone - a mere office worker at The City Ground, have been chosen to become the next manager. This is due to a series of financial problems that prohibit the board from contracting out an established manager. I argued back and forth that I had no background in football and that I would be laughed out of the training ground, but the chairman stood firm. He told me in no uncertain terms that if i didnt accept the job that he knew some very bad people that would come and "make a ****" on my carpet. Well, what could i do? It was a brand new carpet, and i couldnt afford to get it cleaned, never mind replaced.
So I turn up for my first day at Nottingham Forest F.C as the manager, and the players are very suspicious of me. Gareth Taylor, the established Welsh front-man, ran me over in his mini metro. The players just laughed. My pride was hurt of course but I didnt let it show. Instead, I decided to take the hard line, "i'll be a disciplinarian" I thought. I phoned Gareth Taylors parents and told them what had happened. I'm not sure what action they took but this incident was never repeated!
The next few weeks of training and pre-season friendlies flew by and as I gradually earned the players respect I began to get a feel for the team. Marlon King and David Johnson were a potent front two, and I had a couple of electric paced wingers in Andy Reid and Andy Impey. But the team was missing something. An attacking midfielder who could play in the 'hole' was needed if we were to be ready for our opening game against Q.P.R. I instructed my chief scout - to search every Tesco store in the country to find this elusive player "sod off". Came the reply from my scout. "I'm watching Magnet & Steel", I shook my head at him "look, Higgins" I shouted, "get the hell out on the road. I know there's a Tesco employee out there who can tear this division apart, now get looking or you're out". Andy Higgins got his fat arse up off the sofa and begun his journey.
I took his place on the couch and started watching the episode of Magnet & Steel, it was very good. The double act had come across a bad guy in a warehouse shouting "I'm evil" and Magnet had to get in a tank. Great stuff!
I didnt hear much from andy higgins for a while, and when i did I wasn't impressed with what I saw, a few cloggers with good stamina but no real talent - the gary neville type. Until one day. Higgins phoned me up. He was in high spirits and did a spot-on impression of the cheeky girls "cheeky cheeky!" he quipped, anyway he had reason to be pleased with himself. He'd been in Cheltenham and discovered a boy-genius called Ryan Baker, who was perfect for the playmaker role. "before you get too excited boss, this kid's got a few problems." I wasnt too worried "oh thats alright fatty, we've got some good physios here, he'll be 100% in no time". there was a silence ."erm, no boss. It's not fitness problems. He's erm... a bit of a racist." I was devastated. Theres no way I could associate this fine club with racism. I thought long and hard and eventually came up with a solution - I'll do all his interviews for him!" the press will never know.
I made the decision and signed up Baker, he signed his contract - 'Adolf Hitler', so we had to get another one drawn up. It was at this point i realised we could never allow him to sign autographs for fans.
The local press wanted to know all about this wonder kid from Tesco, so I had to oblige them. I did ever single interview on his behalf. In one radio interview i was asked "how good this kid is" and i made the bold claim that he was on a par with Pele, Maradona, Chris Bart-Williams and George Best. Maybe i shouldn't have put so much pressure on the lad but i was genuinly excited about seeing him turn out against Q.P.R at the weekend.
Saturday came and the pre-match buzz was catching like wildfire. I named my eleven - Gerrard, Louis-Jean, Rogers, Dawson, Tarka, Evans, Beaumont, Reid, Impey, King, Johnson.
Baker was disapointed to start on the bench but i told him i wanted to see how the game developed and then introduce him to use the element of surprise. I gave my team talk. I spoke about the film Home Alone 2 and about how poor Macauley Culkin was lost in New York. "DO IT FOR CULKIN!!!!!" were my last inspiring words as the lads left the dressing room. We all walked out into the tunnel and onto the pitch except Barker. This didnt bother me, I assumed he was just psyching himself up for his debut. I went and sat in the dugout and the game soon kicked off. We started brightly, probing for openings and testing their keeper from distance. The home fans were getting right behind us when King went through one on one and tucked it away in the far corner. YES! Great start. Right, lets try and hold onto this now, i thought.
All of a sudden the 30,000 crowd went silent. I looked around me "whats going on?" I thought. All of a sudden I saw it - the sight of Ryan Baker making his way from the tunnel to the dugout, dressed head to toe as a Ku-Klux Klan member. White robes, the lot. I couldn't believe it. I sunk my head in my hands. The entire crowd werent even watching the game any more. Their heads follwed this strange white suited figure in silence all the way to the subs bench. He sat down next to me and removed his hood. "alright boss?" he grinned.
I was in a daze. All I could do was get him on quick. I told the 4th official to put James Beaumont's number up. "you're going on Baker, get out of that ridiculous outfit. And don't let me see you wearing it again." He got stripped off and warmed up.
Beaumont was gutted to come off so early in the 1st game of the season. He blanked me as he left the pitch. Baker sprinted on. He surprised everyone in the ground by making his first tackle on a player who didn't even have the ball. It was over the top and two footed. Even worse, it was on his own player - Andy Impey. Ryan celebrated by giving the Nazi salute. I shouted for Micheal Dawson to go and have a word with him. Michael did so and Ryan seemed to calm down.
5 minutes from half time, a long ball from Alan Rogers was coming Ryan's way. He watched it come down and elegantly killed it first time with his left foot. He feinted to lob it over the top for Johnson, but instead sent Reid away on the overlap. Reid flew towards the touchline and knocked over a great cross with pace. The keeper came out and punched it to the edge of the box. Baker was waiting. He controlled it on his chest before firing a rocket into the top corner. He was ecstatic and wheeled away to the corner flag with his shirt over his head like Ravanelli, revealing the letters 'B.N.P' tattooed across his chest.
Marlon King, David Johnson and Andy Impey were understandably appalled by this debut performance and refused to go and celebrate with him.
I was facing a huge dilemma. The boy seems to be a troubled genius. I could try explaining to him about how down in Sowetto there's a child who thinks a landmine is a ball? I was at my wits end.....
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Gino:
Just to clear myself up a bit, I didn't mean I found it offensive or anything! It just seemed a bit strange! <HR></BLOCKQUOTE>
Yeah, nothing of real offence as it stands (just be a bit careful, if you develop it any further as a theme)
Don't mean to hijack your thread, I think it's a good idea with the racism thing (in terms of making it a more "exciting" story), just don't go over the border-line with it I suppose.
KUTGW nevertheless whether it's with the Ryan Baker saga or not...
we're 2-0 up at half time but i go back into the dressing room to find the players at each others throats. Half of the players are threatening strike action, while the other half are defending Baker, saying he's just a kid and he'll grow out of this.
I shepherd Baker out into the tunnel and tell him to go home "I'm subbing you lad, go home and come back on wednesday. Think about what you're doing to your career." He starts to cry and mutters something about 'rights for whites.'
Back in the dressing room I apologise to all the black players on Ryans behalf, they graciously accept this and i start to think about making my second sub after only 45 minutes. I look across to Eugen Bopp and tell him that he's coming on. He doesn't even look up. He's stroking that bloody weasel again. "Oh for Christ's sake Boppy, why do you always bring that frigging weasel everywhere with you?".
The mad German midfielder looked hurt and said "Mr Veasel always comes vis me, oh how i love him so" and begun to cry.
I sighed, "I'm sorry, boppy. You know Mr Weasel is always welcome here, but i'm putting you on for Baker so put him back in his box and get stripped down."
The second half was a non-event and the game finished nil-nil. A strange game but we've got to be happy with the three points.
On Monday morning the lads are all doing their weight training. Nothing too intensive, so I put my assistant in charge and head off to pay Baker a visit. I ring the doorbell at his lovely bungalow and Baker answers "hi boss" he says as he ushers me in to take a seat on his sofa decorated with swastika cushions. "how've you been son?" I ask. He shrugs his shoulders and says "well, i've been okay. I've read Mein Kampf a few times and been watched a bit of Trisha but I'd rather be at training boss."
"Look Ryan...." I started, but suddenly the whole room went dark. At first I thought it was a solar eclipse but then i realised it was simply Ryan's enormous girlfriend Krishna Cerrone walking past the window and eliminating all the natural light. "HELLO DARLING, WHERE IS THAT WHEELBARROW OF PASTIES?" She boomed, "oh they're in the guest bedroom. I poured on some extra lard for you sweetheart". She blew him a kiss and thundered out like some kind of massive dinosaur.
"Christ Ryan, she's a bit *****ng fat isn't she?" I exclaimed. Ryan just stared at me "my last girlfriend was 12 stone, Krishna is 25 stone. Thats 13 stone heavier than my last girlfriend. Back of the net".
I ignored this. "anyway, lad. The reason I'm here is about the racism thing. It's ruining your career. You're a great player but the players and the fans don't like the racism and neither do I. So you're going to have to knock it on the head."
We argued about this for a while, Ryan claimed he was being persecuted and blamed it on some global jewish conspiracy. What ever that meant. In the end he agreed to keep his political beliefs to himself, so we shook hands and I told him I wanted him ready to face Gillingham on Wednesday. I said goodbye to his massive fat girlfriend and drove off in my disability scooter.
Wednesday came and all the lads, except Baker, were waiting on the team bus. Eugen Bopp was sat at the front next to his beloved Weasel "Mr Veasel likes to sit by ze vindow" he announced to anyone who would listen.
"whats the hold up boss" Andy Johnson shouts from the back, "none of your business Johnno" I shout back. Bloody Andy Johnson, thinks he's a rebel cos he always sits on the back seat. "Willies!" comes the reply. "Grown up Johnno" I yell back. Silence follows this, and then some sniggering. I look back to see what all the laughter is about. Johnsons bloody mooning me. "Andy Johnson, if you carry on acting like a child, I'll treat you like one. One more noise out of you and you're coming down the front to sit with me" I shouted. This worked and there wasn't one more silly comment from him or any of the players.
Soon Baker turns up. He's dressed as Elvis Presley for some reason. I didnt ask why, I just thanked god it wasnt anything racist.
We drove off and in no time we were in Gillingham. I named my team - Gerrard, Louis-Jean, Dawson, Tarka, Rogers, Bopp, Reid, Evans, Baker, King, Johnson.
I was giving my pre-match team talk. I spoke at length about Andi Peters and how stupid it was that he spelt his name with an 'i' and not a 'y'. I told them that Andi Peters was a load of rubbish and my final inspiring words were "DONT BE LIKE ANDI PETERS".
The first half was awful. We never really got our arses into gear and we came back in 1-0 down from a 25 yard free kick that should never have got past our wall. Baker was especially crap and bore the brunt of the half time ticking off: "What the f*ck was that Baker??? You didn't even seem like you wanted to run! Has your big fat beast of a girlfriend been pouring chip fat down your throat?"
He calmly explained to me that it was my fault that he wasn't performing. He said that he wasn't able to express himself creatively on the football field because I wasn't allowing him to express his political beliefs. I was desperate to not lose so early in the season so I reluctantly agreed that he could do one racist thing in the second half if it meant he raised his game.
I could hardly watch as I sent them back out for the second half.
We started as poorly as we'd played in the first half as Gillingham looked content to sit on their lead. Things changed in the 65th minute when Paul Evans was taking a throw-in. Baker saw the opportunity and removed something from his sock. It was an enormous 70's style afro wig. He put it on and looked ridiculous.
Suddenly, he began to play. He was getting his foot in and winning balls and slowly started to dictate the pace of play in the middle. Breakthrough came 10 minutes later. Baker (still wearing the afro) picked up a loose ball in the centre circle and dodged the first tackle, he then dropped his shoulder, changed his pace and threw a step-over to beat the next man before driving forward to the edge of the box where he played a one-two with Marlon King before rounding the goalkeeper to slot the ball home into the far corner from an impossibly acute angle at the by-line. A wonder goal! We were jumping up and down on the subs bench singing "for he's a jolly good racist" when it all went a little sour. Baker was behind the goal celebrating, when he ripped off the wig, wiped his arse on it and threw it into the gillingham fans.
There was a brief pitch invasion, the referee sent both teams back to the dressing room and told me to sub Baker before allowing play to start again.
On came James Beaumont when play eventually continued. We played out a 1-1 draw, and took a point back to Nottingham. I could live with that.
Unfortunately the referee had included the incident in his match report and Baker was looking like facing an F.A disciplinary committee. Added to this the problem I had with him: how long could I allow him to go on being racist - it seemed that the racism went hand in hand with his best performances.
It seemed like an identical situation to the one that Man United had with that French donkey Cantona. He was only ever decent when Ferguson let him do whatever the hell he wanted. He was always sh*t in Europe though wasn't he? Bit overrated if you ask me.......
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR> I reluctantly agreed that he could do one racist thing in the second half if it meant he raised his game.
<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>
He surprised everyone in the ground by making his first tackle on a player who didn't even have the ball. It was over the top and two footed. Even worse, it was on his own player - Andy Impey. Ryan celebrated by giving the Nazi salute. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE>
African Tears 
:thup:
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