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Standing at the side of the pitch, his palms sweating and face blushed to match his maroon shirt, nothing that Alex MacDonald was saying left any impression on Michael Strang. Just turned eighteen years old, a shock of shoulder-length ginger hair clashing wildly with his strip, Michael was about to step out onto the Tynecastle field as a Hearts player for the very first time. The team were trundling along to a mid-table finish after the agony of losing the title to Celtic on goal difference twelve months earlier, and MacDonald, along with co-manager Sandy Jardine, thought the time right to blood their latest youngster.
It was a moment Michael had dreamed of throughout his childhood when he lay in bed at night. Posters of his favourite players, banners and scarves took up every bit of wall space they could. He didn’t mind that the club bounced between the Premier and First Divisions during his early years, nothing dampened his spirit and desire to one day pull on the maroon jersey. Whenever they would play football in the street or the park, he had no interest in being a Scotland international, or bowing to the wishes of the Hibs fans who surrounded him where he lived in Leith; he was always a Hearts man.
If was, conversely, this determination and dedication which hindered him in his early years of playing the game. Playing for his local boys club, he resembled more of a headless chicken than a football player and had little time or inclination to work on his basic skills. It was only around the age of twelve that any discipline was instilled in him when the family moved across town to Gorgie and a new youth club brought a new coach who knew how to work with him.
Signed by Hearts at the age of sixteen as an aggressive central midfielder, he sat and watched from the stands whilst MacDonald masterminded the club to its near title success. Some quality performances for the reserve side quickly took the management’s eye and he sat on the bench unused five times before finally now he was getting his chance. Ten minutes left and the win in the bag, his number was held up by the linesman and Michael sprinted onto the field.
Relegation fodder Hamilton Accies were the visitors, there were already five goals on the board when Michael joined the fray. It took Accies’ goals conceded tally above ninety for the season, and it was one of the first times the fans had truly found their voice in the campaign. It took him a few minutes to get the speed of the game, the ball flew bye him ten times faster than anything in a reserve match, but he soon found his footing and a few solidly placed passes ballooned his confidence.
He felt for the first time like he belonged at the same table as these men he had idolised. It helped considerably that Accies were atrocious, barely worthy of the place they had taken in the twelve team Premier Division but with each well timed pass, with each winning tackle, Michael grew visibly in stature.
His crowning moment was yet to come, with a sixth goal already added to the count whilst he had been on the field, though one he’d had no involvement in from start to finish, he saw MacDonald gesturing that he should edge forward for a corner with just seconds left on the clock. He took a position on the perimeter of the eighteen yard box, free on the downtrodden Accies markers. The ball flighted slowly into the crowded penalty area, dropped to an Accies defender, the attempted clearance took a deflection off John Robertson and bounced to the youngster’s feet.
Some believe that time slows down in the important moments life throws our way, others that it speeds up and the times you wish you could savour forever and a day are over in less than the blink of an eye. Neither seemed applicable to Michael, a swing of his right boot, the ball curled away, struck the crossbar and bounced into the crowd. It was three inches from glory, and thirty seconds later the ball was in the net for a seventh time, but Michael had a taste of what he longed for.
The photo was faded, yellowing and curling around the edges despite the plastic film holding it in the album. The scene forty years old, it still brought back memories that seemed as fresh as those from yesterday. In it stood Michael Strang, forty years younger than he was now, packing his life into the back of a rusting Ford Transit van. There was something of excitement about the scene; the goofy smile that adorned the younger Michael’s face, the haphazard way the boxes were stacked in the street, waiting to be thrown into the van. It all told of someone who just couldn’t wait to get on his way to wherever he was going.
Where he was going was Leicester, the beginning of a new life and one back in football. The memories came flooding back, both good and bad of the time he spent embroiled in the game. He tried as much as he could to think about it as little as possible. It had been a long time since he’d retired for good, even longer since he’d hung up the boots of his playing days. There were days like these when it made him resent what he had now, when his life relied upon memories.
He laid the photo album to one side and picked up his phone, wondering whether there was someone he might call to ease his loneliness. He scrolled through the phonebook; neither of his sons would welcome a call, those bridges had been burned long ago. He couldn’t even be sure he still had the right numbers for them. John had gone much the same way, once the best of friends he now wanted nothing to do with Michael. It was becoming a common wish, and one that he had no one to blame for but himself.
He slid the phone back into his pocket and gently eased his ageing bones out of his chair. He thought about going upstairs, talking to Eileen, but even that had become a one-sided conversation. He couldn’t remember the last time his wife spoke a coherent word, the strokes had taken that away from her. The home help would arrive soon, and she knew where to look for the key if he was out. He eased on his jacket and stepped out into the bitter cold; another wintry day in what was technically still Autumn.
--
The headstone was one of the few that had not been kicked over. Council employees paid to knock over any that were slightly loose to stop ‘vandals’ doing the same, it made little sense. Above Sarah’s grave, however, the stone stood firm. He laid his flowers down beside it, a cheap bunch bought from the local corner shop that were nigh-on dead. Michael felt it was a compromise, he came to pay his respects but to the woman who cost him everything, a fact he noted by spending the bare minimum he could on the flowers.
He had tried to come along just once a month since he learnt that she had died. Her battle with cancer had not been long, she gave up almost as soon as the doctors had diagnosed her. She had rejected the treatment that made it merely a chronic condition, she reasoned that it was simply her time to go. Michael now wished he had been around at the time; he had still loved her to the very end, perhaps even more than he had loved his wife but he had made his choice long ago.
He turned to leave, his footsteps crunching along the gravel pathway leading back to the cemetery gates. He started the car and as he sat waiting for the air-con to take the chill off the air that had stepped in with him, his mind wandered again, back to the days when everyone had wanted to know him.
The van was still parked outside, slowly rusting further away from its prime. I had been meaning to find somewhere more permanent to leave it, or sell it on, but time wasn’t exactly something I had much of. The house had a small driveway, just big enough for my Ford Focus, and I was tempted just to offer the keys to the van to the nearest dodgy dealer selling knocked-off TVs. I had an odd sentimental attachment to it though, it had brought me to Leicester and I was destined to hold onto it until it fell apart.
I really had barely any time at home anyway, the club could have saved money by simply sticking a sofa bed in my office rather than providing me with a nice two-bedroom place as a signing-on fee. I had signed a four-year deal at Leicester City, I supposed that in the close season I might get to spend some time at home, but as for now any idea of a nine-to-five job was just wishful thinking.
I’d arrived at the Walkers Stadium with little idea of what to expect. I knew of Leicester as a club that had (relatively recently) been in the Premiership and expected that there was a burning desire to return as soon as possible. The arrival of Milan Mandaric as chairman had pumped money into the club, and if he were to put in the same level of investment as he did at Portsmouth I doubted there would be many problems in at least getting them that far.
My expectations of Milan, however, were well wide of the mark. The impression given in the press was of a somewhat eccentric, demanding man, and sacking manager Martin Allen after little more than four weeks in the job did little to assuage those fears. He was though, an astute businessman and entirely aware of just how difficult success was to achieve. He’d made his money during the birth of America’s ‘Silicon Valley’ before turning to football club ownership and seemed willing to give me time to get the club where he wanted.
“I’m not stupid, Michael.” Sitting in his office, having had a long conversation about nothing in particular, I was inclined to agree. “I’m not expecting you to win promotion this year. You’ll have money to spend, don’t worry, and eventually we want to be in the Premiership, but this year all we need from you is to keep us safely in mid-table. That and a big signing, someone for the fans to get excited about.” I’d felt much better about things after my first meeting with Milan. Initially I’d been concerned with just the size of task I had asked of myself in my first job in football management. Sure, I had played at the top of the game. I had won titles and international recognition, but it all counted for **** when you stepped into the dugout.
My first job had been to meet the staff that I had at my disposal. It didn’t seem too exhaustive a list for a club at Championship level, indeed it compromised just five coaches, two physios and a scout. Two of those coaches, Jon Rudkin and Steve Beaglehole, would work exclusively with the under-eighteen squad whilst I didn’t even have an assistant manager to ease me in. Responsibility for organising that search had been passed to Milan’s secretary and I was hopeful that sooner, rather than later, the two of us would be presented with a number of choices to work though.
For now though, it was left to me to assess the squad and what we needed.
Hello all. Me back with yet another story. My Scotland one will be finished off in the next few days but this is a more serious attempt at something which I've been working on this for a while now. Game being played on FM07 (7.0.2) with many European leagues running (England, Scotland, France, Netherlands, Italy, Spain and Germany, if memory serves).
Rab Douglas [34. Scottish]
Rab had once held down a regular place in the Celtic first team and been capped eighteen times for his country. Unfortunately, those days were long behind him, and I doubted his creaking legs were up to playing even at this level. I had four professional ‘keepers at the club, though the sale of Paul Henderson to Nottingham Forest quickly made that three, and with Rab earmarked for the door as well, we suddenly look quite thin on the ground. A lot of trust would no doubt have to be placed in Australian youngster Alex Cisak at some point in the season.
Márton Fülöp [23, Hungarian]
On loan from Sunderland, we were already Márton’s fifth English club in his short career. He failed to make the grade at Tottenham – from where he had been turfed out on loan to Chesterfield and Coventry – and his being shipped out from the Stadium of Light suggested a similar fate at Sunderland. I wasn’t overly delighted at having him on board, whilst he had superb communication with his defence and good reflexes, he was only the #1 at the club due to a lack of talent in his competition, rather than a startling brilliance on his own part.
Jimmy Nielsen [28, Denmark]
Coming into the years that, as a goalkeeper, are supposed to signal your prime, I would have hated to see Jimmy when he wasn’t at his best. He was a determined lad and pretty agile, but from my first few viewings, and certainly from the opinion of my coaches, he simply lacked too many of the basic skills that are needed in a good goalkeeper. He would backup Márton, but only for as long as we couldn’t find a replacement.
Defenders
[Age, Position, Nationality]
Darren Kenton [27, DRLC, English]
For someone who seems to have been around for ever and a day, I was surprised to learn that Darren was still three years shy of his thirtieth birthday. A veteran of nearly two hundred games in the Championship since making his debut in 1997 with Norwich, he has exactly the sort of experience needed to succeed at this level, and though his one brief sojourn to the Premiership with Southampton didn’t work out, he was clearly a talented lad who I could see us hanging onto for a few years yet.
Bruno N’Gotty [35, SW/DRC, French]
When you get to Bruno’s age still playing professional football at a pretty decent level, it’s always a testament to someone who has looked after their body. He may have lost pretty much all the pace he ever had during his heyday at PSG and Milan, but five hundred and forty-six games of experience, a calm head on his shoulders and an ariel ability that could still give strikers nightmares meant he straightaway stood out as captaincy material.
Alan Maybury [27, DR, Irish]
How the mighty have fallen. A Champions League semi-finalist for Leeds and caps for his country as well, Alan was then exiled to Hearts for a three and a half year spell under Craig Levein where he became quite a fan favourite for his consistent performance levels. It was Levein who brought him to Leicester in 2005 and he quickly established himself in the side, but it’s a long way from the career he seemed to be carving out for himself at the beginning of the decade. However, he was to the fore in my plans, still a quality defender with exactly the sort of agression I liked.
Gareth McAuley [26, DRC, N. Irish]
A six-times capped Northern Ireland international, Gareth was still likely not good enough to find himself amongst my first choice team. However, it did speak to the strength in depth available, particularly in defence, that someone with plenty talent and experience to succeed at this level of the game would see himself pull on the Leicester shirt only on very rare occasions. The trick would be to keep him happy whilst he wasn’t playing, and to be honest I was already bracing myself to lose him in the January transfer window.
Richard Stearman [18, DRC, English]
The main reason why McAuley would see little game time was Richard Stearman. Having already played forty-two league matches for the club before I arrived, he had shown the fans his undoubted quality. A work-rate that any manager would die for, hugely strong and very well-timed in the tackle, I felt Richard had the qualities to go all the way to international level. I just hoped he would get the chance to do so whilst at Leicester.
Radostin Kishishev [31, DR/DM/MRC, Bulgarian]
A defender by trade, certainly most of his time at Charlton had been spent at right back, Raddy was also plenty good enough to be considered for a starting slot in the centre of midfield. A veteran of over three hundred career games, and plenty of them in the Premiership, his teamwork and work-rate were second to none and, like Alan, had a nice aggressive edge to him. The only problem was his salary, at £10,000 per week he was one of the highest paid players in the squad, and if the budget needed it, he would have to be one of the first to go.
Alan Sheehan [19, DLC, Irish]
Another youngster, Alan’s one outstanding talent was his ability at a dead-ball situation. Both his corners and free kicks could be whipped in with unerring accuracy, it was merely a pity for him that the rest of his game didn’t stack up as well. To be perfectly honest, I thought him no better than a League One defender, but with only two proper left backs in the squad, he would be kept on and likely given the early rounds of the cup comeptitions to try and prove me wrong.
Patrick Kisnorbo [25, DC, Australian]
Another former Hearts player who had found his way to Leicester, Patrick was also the most talented of the four Aussies on the club’s books. An exceptionally fit player who was a match for anyone in the air, I’d watched him for two seasons after he joined Hearts from South Melbourne and was well aware of his talents. He had Italian roots and was already attracting interest from a number of lower Serie A and high-up Serie B clubs, but I was convinced he was Premiership quality and was determined to keep him at Leicester.
Sergio Hellings [21, DC/DM, Dutch]
Signed from Belgian side Anderlecht by the previous regime after he came through the Ajax youth system, Sergio was new at the club but looked to have all the attributes needed to be a success. Equally good either as a defensive midfielder or centre back, I saw him as a long-term option at the club who may not feature heavily in the first year, but should he continue to develop as expected, could wield a greater influence on the first team as the years go by. His main failing was a lack of pace, but at centre back that would be less of a worry, and it was in that position I felt his future lay.
Hosain Kaebi [20, D/WB/AMR, Iranian]
Doubtless Hosain would come in for plenty of abuse from opposing fans, I was hopeful that he could put in a level of performance that would turn the jeers away from his nationality and towards his ability on the football field. Primarily a right back, and already capped forty-four times by Iran, Hosain was also a candidate to be Bruno’s vice-captain. He had electric pace, a wonderful first touch, could land a cross on a sixpence and was no slouch in the tackle. As an eighteen year-old he was named in World Soccer Manazine’s ’10 Most Promising Players’ and signed for Leicester on the back of some very impressive performances at the 2006 World Cup. There seemed no doubt that he had the talent to succeed, and do so in the Premiership.
Clive Clarke [26, D/WBL/DM, Irish]
On a season-long loan from Sunderland, Clive was easily the first choice left back at the club. He possessed a very good all-round game, his marking and off-the-ball skills at the very top of his game. I had no doubt he would be important for us, as long as he stayed fit I saw little reason to go chasing any competition for his place, and I already had a mind on how much it would cost us to make his move permanent come the end of the season.
James Chambers [25, D/MR, English]
Able to play either at right back or right wing, James was one of those unfortunate players who was a master of none of his trades. Neither strong enough in defence nor skillful enough in attack, the only things James had in his favour were his pace and the fact that he would work tirelessly for the team whilst being soundly beaten by the opposition. I could see his uses in an injury crisis, but further than that I felt his days were numbered at this level.
James Wesolowski [18, DM, Australian]
A highly regarded talent in Australia, James moved to Leicester whilst still young, and shone for the youth and reserve sides before making his breakthrough into the first team for five games during the 2005-06 season. To be honest, I didn’t see him making many more appearances than that this time around, but it was obvious that he had potential, and a loan move may be best to get him the first team football his development needs.
Stephen Clemence [28, MLC, English]
Stephen’s career was always going to be overshawdowed by Successful Father Syndrome. Joining Tottenham as a youngster, big things were expected of Ray’s son before he had even thought about a first team debut. He failed to make the grade at White Hart Lane and then spent four years in and out of the Birmingham side. I felt his talents had been overlooked, however, he was a good passer of the ball and made good decisions on the field, and he clearly figured in my plans for the club.
Marco Ferreira [28, AMR, Portuguese]
How, exactly, a Benfica winger had been persuaded to join Leicester was something of a mystery, until I saw Marco in action. The mystery then became how, exactly, Benfica had been persuaded to take him on in the first place. Not particularly quick, nor very good on the ball, he seemed to lack the basic qualities of a winger, and I could only imagine he had amassed three international caps through inventive use of weaponry. I resolved to keep his loan deal running purely to keep numbers up in the squad, but I sincerely doubted that his stay would be any longer than a season at the Walkers Stadium.
Shaun Newton [30, AMR, English]
Another reason Marco would be staying on was that Shaun Newton was really, really bad. Uniquely untalented, Shaun was the first earmarked for the exit door, and I couldn’t boot him out of it quickly enough. I would have been surprised if there were even any League One clubs interested in his services, his (lack of) talents seemed far more suited to the Conference, but whomever would take him could have him. For free.
Iain Hume [22, AMR/FC, Canadian]
I was surpised to find out that Iain was still so young, given that it felt like he’d been around at this level for an absolute age. He’d already played a season at Leicester after joining from Tranmere in 2005, and he’d done pretty well, scoring nine goals in thirty-seven league games, largely played up front. I saw his role more on the right side of midfield, patrolling the touchline and swinging in crosses, and that he could have a big part to play in our campaign from that position.
Levi Porter [19, AMLC, Emglish]
Levi had represented English at each youth level, and I anticipated that he would continune the run by claiming some Under-21 caps before he reached the age limit. Whether he would go on to win full international honours was far more debatable, he had excellent touch and technique, but a lack of out-and-out pace, particularly as a winger, might just put the top level of the game out of his reach.
Adda Djeziri [17, AML/ST, Danish]
Adda had spent the previous season failing to make a mark at Rangers, and other than in the reserves and Carling Cup, I couldn’t see him doing much more at Leicester. He had obvious potential, and though he liked to think of himself as a striker, to me he looked better suited to the wing. I doubted, however, whether his deal would be made permanent before it ran out in January, and he would have to do a lot to win me over.
Strikers [Age, Position, Nationality]
‘DJ’ Campbell [24, ST, English]
You’d call yourself ‘DJ’ as well if your first name was Dudley, which I don’t think can be pronounced in anything other than a thick Birmingham accent. Taken from obscurity at Yeading to Brentford by former Leicester boss Martin Allen, DJ spent an relatively unsuccessful season with Birmingham in the Championship before Allen paid £1,500,000 to bring him to the Walkers Stadium. I wasn’t sure about him, he had both obvious talents and weaknesses, but he would likely get enough time on the field to try and impress me.
Carl Cort [28, ST, English]
Possibly one of the biggest failures in English football, it still baffles many as to why Bobby Robson paid £7,000,000 to take Carl to Newcastle in 2000 when he hadn’t even done that well for Wimbledon. Only sixty-four goals in over two hundred league appearances told all you needed to know, and Leicester was possibly his final chance to achieve success at even a moderately sized club. If he failed here, the only way was down.
Mark de Vries [30, ST, Dutch]
The third former Jambo in the squad, Mark was probably the most surprising to have been a success at Tynecastle. I had been there the day he announced himself to the crowd with a four-goal haul against Hibs, but when Levein had brought him to Leicester, the goals seemed to dry up. Whether that was an indictment of the SPL or ageing legs finally giving way I wasn’t sure, but his prowess in the air and the style of football I intended to play meant he could be exactly what the side needed.
Matty Fryatt [20, ST, English]
Signed from Walsall in 2005 after netting twenty-six goals in two League One campaigns, Matty had what you needed to be a success at this level. His early sessions showed him to be good when presented with a chance, and his ability to dribble round defenders almost at will certainly endeared him, and whilst Dudley, Carl and Mark would fight it out for who parternered him, Matty would be the one constant in the side, of that I was already sure.
Overall I was pleased with the squad, there were obvious places where reinforcements were needed, pretty much the entire midfield line being the most pressing need, but even without that I was confident that we would achieve the chairman’s target of mid-table. With a few shrewd signings – including, of course, the requisite ‘big name’ – I honestly felt we had a good shot at a place in the play-offs.
The Life and Times of Michael Strang 
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