Cheers Bartley! I heard you voted for me for writer of the year so cheers:thup: though it didn't get counted. As they say, it's the thought that counts :p
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“Five minutes were into the match and already it appeared as the team, playing in red, were on top. The ginger haired lad at left back certainly appeared to have talent, as did the striker up front… lanky, I dunno, 6’5 would you say?”
Dave realised where he was – in front of a bumper Hampden crowd – and breathed in deeply. Scotland were playing Norway and like his thoughts, they were well in control of the game.
If truth be told, Rick and Dave’s relationship over the few months he had been Scotland manager had deteriorated. The plan for Dave to be assistant manager wasn’t the best decision in the world, due to his lack of knowledge of the game.
They ploughed on and Rick trusted him enough to turn to him during games.
“ Well, Norway are well in control… what do you think I should change?”
A smile arose across David’s face – he couldn’t quite believe Rick finally trusted him – and he answered confidently.
“ Well, you see Paul there… he should move up the park! Look at him, he doesn’t know where he is at the moment.”
Rick turned to the action and one shout later, Paul Dickov, the Blackburn striker, moved up towards the central defence. Thomson’s reasoning for the move forward was because Norway would expect Dickov to be playing on the last-line of the defence.
It hadn’t worked, just like many other of Thomson’s moves, but finally this change seemed to be paying off. Dickov wriggled free of two defenders but Bergdolmo read the game perfectly, though couldn’t prevent a corner.
From the resulting order, Steven Caldwell headed the ball into the back of the net and just like last time, there was a huge roar from the Hampden crowd. Dave ran onto the pitch and faced an hour of the games in the stand… not that he minded too much.
The match dragged on and the duo went through all the emotions a football match can offer (though this may differ to what you think, as Dave went through the emotion of love with the “posh bird row F, seat 13” as he later described her to Rick. He wasn’t best amused.)
For those involved in the Scotland camps (or for those who cares i.e not David) it was a great achievement and everyone believed it could only get better against Moldova in three days time (though Dave pointed out it was unlikely that the Moldovan ‘birds’ will be up to much)
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