shannon2007

A Fine Romance

Football, they say, is a funny old game, and many times that adage has been proven true. Life in general though can be just as funny, and who can figure out the meaning behind the way things work out, and wonder just what the hell such tiny little things as stopping to tie your shoelaces on sunny afternoon outside Hampden, can have such a dramatic impact on your life. If you stop to think about such things, you would probably go insane.

In the April of 2006, I did something that I never had intended to do. At the age of nearly 42, I got married. If I hadn’t stopped to tie my lace that day, not only would I never have gotten the chance to manage Scotland, I would never have met the woman who was to become my wife. Elizabeth Cuthbertson was appointed by the SFA to be my personal assistant. She was, when I met her, 34 years old, a fairly attractive divorcee, and the truth was, that we didn’t hit it off straight away. This wasn’t love at first sight, it was almost loathing. Not only did I not see the need for a PA, I was actually more miffed that she was being paid more than me. The SFA had agreed to pay me £350 a week during my tenure as national boss, which on the face of it wasn’t a bad amount of money. My PA was earning £1200, and that to me seemed utterly ridiculous.

Yet over time we grew to be friends. It was hard not to like Liz, as she preferred to be called. She was an intelligent, thoughtful and caring woman, and it was she who managed to renegotiate my contract once we had qualified for Germany, so that I was now earning £1500 a week, and had also received a £30,000 bonus for reaching the World Cup Finals, with more to come dependant on how we did. It was certainly a huge change in my lifestyle.

The one problem though that Liz had was her three kids. I don’t overly like kids, they tend to get in the way of romance, especially when they feel you might be trying to take their fathers place. Which I had no intention of doing. As far as I was concerned he could have the kids, but of course I could never tell Liz that. Derek, who had just turned 13 before we were married, was the hardest to win over. He was a typical spoilt brat, an obnoxious pre-teen, and I found it hard not creep into his room and suffocate him as he slept.

The other kids were Emily and Sarah, 8 year old twin girls, who simply adored daddy, even though daddy only ever turned up to see them once a month, and usually made some excuse as to why he couldn’t spend more time with his own kids. As time passed, I began to perhaps understand why Derek was such an obnoxious little *******, and started to soften towards him, and by the time of the wedding, I think its safe to say we were almost friends. The girls were delighted with the wedding. At eight they probably didn’t fully understand such things as mummy getting married to a man who wasn’t daddy, but being bridesmaids and wearing pretty dresses they did understand.

After the wedding, daddy showed up less and less at the house, and in many ways that was probably just as well, as my future career would see me leave Scotland at some point, and his lack of real caring failed to put the stumbling block in my path that it might have done had he been a half decent human being. So for that at least, I guess I should have been grateful to him, and its remarkable how resilient the kids were. Of course they still missed him, but having a new daddy who was always around seemed to be more than adequate replacement. It was still something that took me a lot of time to get used.

What also took me a lot of time to get used to was the fact that we were on our way to Germany, to play in the Finals of the World Cup. From the usual squad of 26 I had trim to 23, and to the players who felt they missed out, I can only apologize, but such are the rules and it was out of my hands. One player who made my job that bit easier was Steven Thompson, who refused a late call up for a friendly, and so never played for me again at International level. I always thought he was a bit silly for doing that, and robbing himself of his chance to shine on the biggest footballing stage there is. Another player who had refused a call up for a friendly was Derek Riordan, but he at least later apologized, and seemed so sincere that I had no hesitation in including him in the squad.

And so were all set to take our place in the greatest footballing show on earth, and the media were split as to our chances of success, which at least was an improvement on them all thinking we would fail. Given our results in qualifying, you would have thought the press would be more positive about our chances, but a 4-0 thrashing in Romania, and then an uninspiring 3-1 win at Hampden over Macedonia in our send off game, perhaps sowed those seeds of doubt, and in many ways that was a good thing. This wasn’t the send off of 1978, and we weren’t on the march to bring home the World Cup. Just being there was an achievement in itself, and we intended to enjoy every minute of it.

BarryLFC

Fancy meeting you here. Nice work.

shannon2007

The Greatest Show on Earth

Domestically, Celtic had continued to dominate, having picked up another two titles since I had taken over Scotland. In 2005, they had run away at the top of the league, and towards the end of the season, Rangers decided to part company with Alex McLeish. That in and of itself was no great deal, the guy had probably being hanging on a lot longer than he deserved. What was a surprise, was the choice of manager to replace him.

No-one could quite get to grips when the new Rangers manager was unveiled as Celtic legend, Davie Hay. There was, understandably, uproar and outrage amongst the Rangers support, that was only overshadowed by the feeling of utter disbelief. Hay though didn’t seem to do too badly, yet the Rangers support were never going to accept him. With three matches left of the 2006 season, Rangers were sitting three points behind Celtic, when astonishingly, they decided to sack Hay. Its hard to say if this move cost them the title, but it sure was a strange time to part company with a manager who had at least restored some dignity to the club. Bobby Williamson was unveiled as the new manager, but he too would soon find himself under some real pressure.

All that though was of little concern to me, except as a Rangers supporter I found such things slightly bemusing to say the least, and as my new step-son was an avid Celtic fan, you can imagine the lively conversations we would have of an evening, which usually ended with him being grounded and fined a weeks pocket money. But I had more pressing things to worry about, with the World Cup just round the corner, and Derek would be more than forgiving when he realised he would have the honour of actually being at the tournament.

Two weeks before we were due to start our World Cup campaign, the squad met up at a hotel in Glasgow, where we spent a couple of nights before flying out to the south of France. The idea was that we would spend five days lazing on the beaches of St Tropez, relaxing and having fun. Apart from an early morning jog each day for the players, we did no training during this period. It might seem a strange way to build up for an important tournament, but this was the end of a long hard season, and the fact was we didn’t need to do much training at this point.

Those players who had wives and children were allowed to bring them, and those who didn’t brought their girlfriends, or simply played gooseberry. It was a squad building experience, and helped bring us together as a team unit. As well as helping the players relax and not think too much about what lay ahead of them. Six days before we were due to face Belgium, we moved into our hotel in Hamburg where we would be based for the duration of the group stages.

Training was still light, and we mainly worked on set plays and team moves, with very little fitness work, except for those players who may have been overcoming injury and perhaps needed to gain that little boost to be ready. The truth is, there was nothing we could do at this stage, if we weren’t fit and raring to go now, we never would be. It was simply a case of keeping things ticking over, and perfection our free kick and other set play moves.

Scotland teams have a habit of not only shooting themselves in the foot, but also of players doing silly things that the press like to make a big deal out of. Who can forget Jimmy Johnstone and the rowing boat incident? Whilst those of us who were married had our families to keep us in check, one or two of the younger lads were still needing to go ‘out on the town’, and they were allowed to do so, as long as they kept a low profile and were safely tucked up in bed by 1am.

Boys will be boys though, and the former Hibs duo of Derek Riordan and Scott Brown had rather a bit too much to drink on one of the nights, and ended up in a police cell. This was exactly the kind of thing the press love, and of course it ended up being front page headlines back home, and was blown up out of all proportion. It was exactly the kind of thing we had wanted to avoid, and both players were left in doubt as to the foolishness of their actions, and warned that any repeat would seem them on the next plane home.

On Wednesday 7th June, the 2006 World Cup got underway, as Ghana took on Chile in the opening game, a break from tradition. Chile overcame the Africans by 2-0, but it was the game in the evening that took our interest, as England faced up to Japan. The English were fairly confident that the World Cup was going to be theirs, and therefore we couldn’t help but fall over laughing as the Japanese didn’t just beat them, but humiliated them by 4-1. For once it wasn’t the Scots who had suffered indignation. At least, not yet.

On the 9th of June, our group got underway, as Argentina overcame a plucky UAE team by 3-1. The following day we would face up to Belgium, and the fact of the matter was, this was a game both countries had to win, it was probably already going to be the decider as both sides would probably struggle against the Argies, and both should beat UAE. It was time for the players to stand up and be counted, and make Scotland proud once more of their footballing team…..

Mike..

Don't keep us waiting man!

retired_bailey713

Aaaarrrrgggghhhhhh! I hate it when ppl do that!

im gonna be on a knife-edge for the rest of the day now!!!!!!

shannon2007

Sorry guys

The way the story will, hopefully, be written, there will hopefully be a few 'cliffhangers'. As what Im trying to write here is an autobiography, the reality is that people reading would tend to know a lot of what was about to happen. Oh well, hopefully the knife wont cut you too deep

shannon2007

The Belgian Chocolate Box

You shouldn’t need any motivating, in my opinion, to play for your country. In any sport, indeed any walk of life, being chosen to represent your country should be the greatest honour you can even achieve. Being a fiercely proud Scot, I simply could not understand people, like Steven Thompson and David Elliot for instance, who would put petty personal squabbles ahead of pulling on the dark blue of Scotland. Another thing that severely annoys me, is those players who, during the playing of their National Athens, stand unmoved like zombies, as if they simply couldn’t care less. I realise that some people have no nationalistic pride, I simply didn’t see why those people would want to play for their country.

During the build up to the tournament, and indeed virtually from the first moment I took over the team, but especially in the build up to the World Cup, I had drilled into these players the sense of national pride I expected them to feel. Anyone who stood through Flower of Scotland, and didn’t belt it out as loud as they could, who didn’t show the pride they felt in representing their country, had no place in my squad. There were many people who would almost literally die to be in these players shoes, and they had no right to show anything but the utmost respect and have the utmost desire to win for Scotland.

My own pride and desire probably came through a bit too strongly at times, but as the band played Flower of Scotland, having disposed of the Belgian anthem, not one single Scottish player wasn’t belting it out, and with nearly 40,000 Scots in the just over 55,000 capacity AOL Arena in Hamburg doing the same, you could feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and it was hard to suppress the tears of pride. If a player couldn’t lift himself to play in that atmosphere, then he was surely in the wrong sport, and would probably be better off playing netball or synchronized swimming.

And the atmosphere certainly did seem to inspire the players, as just seven minutes into the game Paul Gallacher blasted us ahead, and there was almost a feeling of inevitability about a Scotland win, that hadn’t been around the national team for a very long time. Yet if the atmosphere, the sense of occasion, was lifting us, it wasn’t exactly depressing the Belgian, as they stormed back into the game, and seven minutes later they were level. The gauntlet had been thrown down, and it was clear we were in for an extraordinary match.

The match was flying by at breakneck speed, and almost on cue, with 22 minutes gone, it was Paul Gallacher bagging his 2nd of the game to send us back into the lead. Of course such a frantic pace couldn’t be kept up, but the excitement level remained, and there were chances for both sides as half time approached. Belgium at this stage had the game by the scruff of the neck, and for the final three minutes of the half, they literally laid siege to our goal, and just into the time added on, they finally broke through and the match was level once more.

It was of course a cruel time to lose a goal, and there were more than a few deflated looking Scotland players trudging their way to the dressing room.But it was only half time, and we had dominated most of the match, and if we kept that kind of play up, we could and should still win this game. Bob Malcolm, who despite his critics had held his place in front of the back four with ease during the qualifying, was having an uncharacteristically poor match, and after an hour I decided to replace him and Garry O’Connor, bringing on Gareth Williams and Derek Riordan. Seven minutes later, Belgium were ahead, and all our effort and hard work seemed to have been in vain.

But we hadn’t come this far just to meekly lie down and see our dreams die in the very first game, and the players lifted themselves to a new level, and dragged themselves back into the match. With thirteen minutes left to play, Andy Webster headed home from a corner, and it was all square again. As time ran out, both sides had run themselves into the ground, and at the end of the day, after a great game of football, a draw was probably the right result.

Of course, that result now left the group hanging in the balance. It would all come down to who could lose the least to Argentina, and who could win the most against UAE. We had Argentina next, and if things went as they probably should, that would give Belgium the psychological advantage, and of course if we lost to Argentina, they would be through and would have little to play for against them. It was quite simple then. We simply decided not to lose to Argentina…….

retired_tonytranbg79

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>which usually ended with him being grounded and fined a weeks pocket money. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

retired_bailey713

Ahhh thats much better!
Shame about the result though but it could have been worse too!!!

Lets just hope that we can pull of a good reult against the argies!!! a draw would be nice but a result would be amazing!!!!

Cant wait for the next installment!

I just dunno what im gonna do on sunday when i go to tunisia on sunday!!!!??? 2 weeks!!!!!!!

Just please dont leave me on another cliffhanger or i may have to come back early........ welll maybe not

retired_karamelkel

Good stuff as always.