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[Terminal]

Idea Behind The Story

This is very much a proper story, not just results and football but also a diary –like story of Alexander’s management career, life and everything else. It should be satirical in parts and serious in others as I progress through life as Alexander Vella, a one man football management legend, or so he thinks!

Prologue

My name is Alexander Vella, pretty much a nobody. I ‘m half English, half Portuguese and used to play football to a semi-professional standard. Injury put pay to that when I was only 27 and since then I have struggled to find a real job. I’ve worked as a part-time accountant, a plumber and even as a waiter, but those jobs never lasted, they never lived up to the footballing world.

About a year ago I was down the pub with some mates, having a drink; talking football, when the conversation came about football management. We were discussing the Euro 2008 tournament and the fact that Steve McLaren was a lemon for not getting England qualified. That was when i made my grand statement that I could do a better job that he could, and that’s really where the story started, after a long argument my mate bet me that I couldn’t have done a better job. His argument being that managing a team is much harder than anyone thinks. He of course managed the local Under 12’s team, and said he had the experience to know. Well I wanted to prove him wrong, and so having nothing better to do and having no real job I looked into coaching.

After completing my relevant coaching badges I now stand here in the middle of summer actually with the stupid intention of finding a football management job and proving to the world that I am could be a great manager. The problem is, I have about £1,000 left to my name, a crap car and crap little flat. Let the search begin!

7th July 2009

I was meant to be at Heathrow at 11.00 am to pick up the plane, but some numpty decided it would be a great idea if they smashed into the back of me and all this when I was already late. The car was so screwed that I just left it parked on a double yellow line. I was leaving England anyway, I’d have to phone Phil to go and pick it up, but I couldn’t be late to get my plane.

I was going to Poznan, in Poland; it was costing me £225 flying with LOT Airlines. I had spoken to the chairman of Warta Poznan, a second division Polish side about becoming their new manager and he was keen for me to come out there and meet him.

I arrived at the airport, with only an hour until my plane left, I literally had to run the full length of Heathrow. Not a fun experience when you’re carrying everything you own in a suitcase. But I got on the plane, despite almost being accosted by some nice policemen, who thought I was a terrorist.

The plane journey was somewhat uncomfortable. It can never be a good thing when you have a ten year old behind you that thinks he’s on a football pitch. My back is now killing me. Note to self, when I am a multi-millionaire always fly first class! Anyway there was no time to think about that I had a meeting with the chairman of Warta Poznan and I needed to concentrate on what I was going to say.

I arrived at the airport and waited for my bag at the carousel. I was there for an hour as people came picked up their bags and left until it was just me and an old Polish lady. There was this bag going around, the was smashed in, I have to admit I laughed the first three times it went round, but then I realised that no one had picked it up and it looked suspiciously like my bag. A close inspection confirmed that it was indeed my bag. It looked like a rag doll now and the majority of my clothes were gone as well as everything else in there. This was turning out to be a great day!

I went over to the LOT Airlines desk and the guy sporting a powerful moustache, seemed to speak English but not understand it as I struggled through my explanation of what happened. After half an hour, he gave me a phone number and ushered me away from the desk and with some sort of Polish groan told me to leave. I was already late and agreed that it was best I just left it.

Outside I picked up a taxi and told him to take me to the Warta stadium Droga Dabinska. The chairman had told me it would take 15 to 20 minutes from the airport. Not the way this guy took me. It took about 45 minutes and he wanted 240 zloty for the trip, neigh on £50. I paid him but I knew I’d been stiffed. I gave him the two fingered salute as he left, made me feel a little better about it.

I walked up to the stadium entrance and there was a tall slim man smiling as I walked in, after an impromptu introduction I found out it was Janusz Urbaniak the chairman of the club. He was clearly wasting no time with formalities as he ushered me to his office and quickly started to reminisce about the former glory that was Warta. The days when the won the league. Of course he was talking about pre-war football. Since then they had done absolutely nothing and no played their football in the Second Division. He must of gone on for about 30 minutes when he suddenly and promptly told me my wages; 3280 zloty a week (£675). He then thrust a contract underneath my nose and pushed a rather nice pen into my hand.

I was surprised I hadn’t said a word yet and he was already getting me to sign contracts. Surely things couldn’t be that bad here. I didn’t want to tempt fate and quickly put my stamp of approval with my signature on the contract. This was no time to question my new boss.

As he took the contract back, he shook my hand and told me that I would be staying in a hotel nearby until I could get my own place, or at least that was what I understood from his broken English. He wrote down an address and told me to rest up. I was meeting the backroom staff tomorrow and the possibly even the players.

I decided to skip the cab and walked to this address after getting a little help from the secretary as she drew a little map for me on a piece of paper. After a 15 minute walk I finally arrived at the The Royal Hotel. I walked in with what was left of my luggage and stepped up to the desk. There was this nice Polish lady there, who was called Anya who helped me check in. Call it stupidity but I liked the look of her and asked her what she was doing after work. She instantly told me that she had a boyfriend and that she was meeting him. Ah well, it looked like I would be sleeping alone!

I decided to save my blushes and check out Poznan. It was nice city it had some nice scenery. I walked up to the city hall and had a nice little drink restaurant. I then decided to stay for dinner as I had barely eaten anything all day before I took a slow stroll back. I realised then that I had walked away from everything i knew back in England and tomorrow I would be starting my new life here in Poland. I was here to stay now!

I got back to the hotel and Anya had already gone, I thought it was probably fortunate. I cut my losses and went to bed. Tomorrow was another day

Comments appreciated!

[ChrisOrmie]

Good idea, well written and good graphics (especially like the polaroid's mate). This could turn into something really cool and I eagerly await the next instalment!

[localhero]

Good read. It's cool to see it as a type of "war story" rather than just a game thread. Looking forward to the next chapter.

[Terminal]

8th July 2009

I woke up rather in a huff, don’t really know why. I was due to meet the backroom staff today.  I got ready, put on my suit which was ponging a bit from yesterday’s hectic travel, but I covered it up with plenty of aftershave.

I glanced at the door and there was a note underneath. It was from Anya, it said that she had something for me down stairs. A smile came across my face as I thought to myself that she had reconsidered my little offer. Well when I got down there I found out that she had made no reconsiderations at all. In fact there was a big package for me. I thanked her and huffed off to my room before I embarrassed myself again.

I open it and there was a note from the Janusz, before I read it I looked inside the package and saw that it was at least 10 audio tapes. I glanced back to the note and it basically said that I was to begin training my Polish and that these tapes would help me. One thought instantly came to me. Who the hell still uses audio cassette tapes? Well maybe in Poland they were still king of audio communication but I hadn’t had one for a good 8 years. I put the tapes to one side and got ready to go downstairs again.

I asked Anya to book me a cab to the stadium and I tried to apologise for the night before. She seemed to not be too bothered by apologies and just glared at her computer screen. I tried to make conversation but she was having none of it. I decided to go outside and just wait for the cab.

Low and behold the same cabby from the day before appeared before me as he pulled up outside the hotel. I thought to myself, “No way I’m paying you another £50”. I calmly told him that it was not my cab, lied about my name and walked away down the road as he went into the hotel.

I arrived at the club just on time and was greeted by the chairman Janusz again. He asked whether I had got the package and I responded. I tried to make out as if I had already begun learning it, and he seemed very appreciative. He kept saying that Polish was the language of love. I was sure he had that confused with French, but anyway I just conceded that fact to him. He took me into the back rooms of the club and in the changing rooms there was a sorry bunch of guys. They were my backroom staff. My number two introduced himself as Slawomir Najtowski. I have to admit I said Slaw what?

Me, Slaw and the other members of the staff team talked about the team. Janusz had brought in an English interpreter, she was a nice piece ass as well, said her name was Sandra. She was Spanish and I had no clue whatsoever as to what she was doing in Poland, anyway her English was rather better than my Polish. Slaw discussed the team and in effect told me we were mid-table. He also told me we were going to play a few pre-season friendlies down in the Bohemian countries, and then they all promptly marched off to have lunch and a beer, leaving me and Sandra Eskibel to it. She had now informed me of her Basque heritage and that she was from San Sebastian in the north of Spain. She seemed nice but just as we were getting to know each other, she said she had to go and see another client.

As I made my way back to reception Janusz cut me off again and told me that I still hadn’t seen my office. He showed me to a room two doors down from his office. The office was pretty basic, but would do. Janusz left me there, and then when I had only just sat down, a short fat man wobbled into my office. He spoke rather good English and informed me his name was Andrzej Jastzrebski, not to be confused with another Andrzej at the club who was the youth coach. Andre as I now called him was the club physio but he clearly thought he was a bit of a scout at the club. He told me he had been at the club since 1989. He knew everything to do with Polish football and I couldn’t shut him up. His parting gift to me was that I should look at a guy called Rafal Dopierala. He handed me a tape as he left. I put it in the VCR and the guy looked pretty decent from the footage, but I still wasn’t sure I should be taking Andre’s advice he was only the bleeding Physio, no matter how long he had been here.

After Andre left, I looked in the draw and there was a huge accountant’s ledger that said in big letters “WATAR”. I had a look and after about a half an hour of trying to decipher everything, and the use of a trusty calculator, I made out that the club had just under £10k in the bank. Not quite Real Madrid but still it was better than being in the red.

I left and as I was leaving Janusz again cut me off and told me that the players couldn’t make it today, he told me that tomorrow I would take training and there I could meet them. Brilliant running drills with a bunch of Poles who have no clue what I was saying. However my ears perked up when he told me that Sandra would now be working as my assistant on a permanent basis.  Yippee-Kay-Yay. Oh what am I on about as if she would go for me! Anyway at least she understood me which was more than anyone else here.

I called it a day and decided to go back to the hotel. As I walked in after a rather brisk walk, I could see that Anya was happier than I’d ever seen her. She had some absolute beast of a man pining over her and I put two and two together and quickly worked out that must of been her boyfriend. I thought it best to keep my head down and keep walking, no use in getting my head kicked in for trying it with his girlfriend. I got up to my room and an audio cassette player was draped over my bed. Oh well......better start learning that Polish!

Comments appreciated!

chrisormie, on 11 July 2010 - 04:04 PM, said:

Good idea, well written and good graphics (especially like the polaroid's mate). This could turn into something really cool and I eagerly await the next instalment!

Cheers bud! Glad your enjoying it!

localhero, on 12 July 2010 - 12:41 PM, said:

Good read. It's cool to see it as a type of "war story" rather than just a game thread. Looking forward to the next chapter.

I hope I don't have to go to war! Oh wait I am in Poland, I hope ze Germans dont come rolling over the hills! LOL! Glad your enjoying it!

[ChrisOrmie]

Awesome update mate - loved it and had a fair few laughs too.

[Jasper]

Awesome stuff mate! Looks really, really good! Keep up the good work!

[Terminal]

9th July 2009

I got down to the club at around 9.30am. Janusz had told me that the players would be getting around ten. I looked around the pitch. It was the first time I had walked out onto the pitch and it was relatively unremarkable. We were training on a side pitch. It surprised me we weren’t training in the local park. At least we weren’t doing that. I set up cones for some of the drills I was planning and waited for the players to arrive.

It was about 10.30am when the majority of the players turned up. The majority seemed happy to just scowl at me from the periphery of the pitch, whilst a couple came up to me and shook my hand. Sandra hadn’t turned up yet and I didn’t have a clue what to say and anything I did say would not be understood anyway.

To save my blushes I noticed Sandra pulling up and quickly gave it a little jog to her car. After a little chat about pretty much nothing at all, she followed me to the pitch the players now came to the centre circle. It seemed like every single player was at least my height or taller. It made me feel like a midget!

I began telling the boys what I expected of them this season and Sandra translated. It seemed that they weren’t impressed, as some of them tutted in a very Polish fashion. Regardless of this I told them I wanted good performances and them to try as hard as possible. I hoped this part got to them. After this I began the drills. They seemed a sorry bunch to be honest; there was plenty of effort but a real lack of quality. We did shooting practice and we lost three balls as our strikers put them over the fence and into the local park. I realised now that was going to be a hard task.

Training went on for a few hours until I had seen enough and told the boys that I had had enough. We needed some serious reinforcements. The most impressive player seemed to be Piotr Riess, he was 37 years old and had been about the place, he had played for first division rivals Lech Poznan and he had a good bit of quality that I felt would be good for the club.

Defensively we were really struggling, in the defensive drills the centre backs were all over the place positionally, weak in the tackle and seemed to have problem communicating. With a big fat £0 to spend we were not going to be getting in anything too much better.

Just as I got to my office, Andre turned up and began instantly asking me what I thought of Rafal, the guy who he had shown me a tape of the day before. I said he seemed good. Just as I said that he grabbed his phone and called the man himself up. He then thrust him it in my direction. It was then that I realised he was a lemon. This guy answers and starts speaking Polish. I pulled a “I don’t understand face” to Andre and instantly he realised with a stunned plumb that I didn’t understand Polish. He apologised and went into a Polish frenzy with the guy.

After about 5 minutes of trying to read a few football papers in my office with Andre shouting his head off on the phone, he suddenly got off it and then told me in no uncertain terms that we could sign Rafal. He had offered him a contract at the club and he was coming in soon. I didn’t know what to say, so all I said was “Okay”. What I should of said was “What the f***? What are you playing at, I’m the manager round here”. Aw well he really can’t be as bad as what we already have.

I got 20 minutes of peace and quiet when Slaw came in, looking rather pleased with himself and handed me an itinerary for the friendly tour to Bohemia. I took it from him and printed off a map from the internet. Slaw told me that we had booked a coach for the week or so period we were out there and that we were leaving tomorrow evening to get there with plenty of time. Great planning Slaw! Why didn’t you just come in tomorrow and tell me to get on the fricking bus! One training session with the boys! I knew we would get destroyed and I would probably get the sack before we even played a game? F*** my life!

As I looked at the itinerary we were first going to play in Slovenia, then back up to the Czech Republic and then to northern Romania before returning home. I pinpointed the places on the map and noted that it would take us 12 hours to get to Kranj. I walked up to Slaw who was in the changing rooms and tried to tell him we need to leave at about noon tomorrow. He seemed to understand, but I wasn’t too sure. I had to make sure that I got this through to someone, so I walked into Janusz’s office and made sure everyone was aware of how long it would take to get all the way down to Slovenia. He agreed and told me that he would make the necessary arrangements. At least someone had their head screwed around here. Janusz asked me how the Polish was going; I feigned knowledge and then quickly beat a hasty escape.

Then as I was leaving, I saw Sandra in the parking lot. Somehow I managed to convince her to take me back to my hotel. We talked about the club and what she was doing in Poland. She said that she had come over as a translator. She spoke 12 languages and so she came over for Banco Santander, until the recession hit and she was out of a job.  Now she was freelance and currently of course my personal interpreter here at Warta. I then found the most important question, she was single, or at least kind of. She had a boyfriend back in Spain but they hadn’t really talked for a while. Things were complicated apparently. I guess that meant I had some chance with her. Hopefully her boyfriend wouldn’t be an ETA terrorist.

Note to self stay away from women who have dangerous boyfriends!

We got back to my hotel and I told her we were leaving earlier for Slovenia. She seemed annoyed by the news but she agreed that she would be there. I really did need her if I was actually going to try and communicate with my players, not to mention anyone else. Tomorrow night we would be in Kranj!

Comments appreciated!

chrisormie, on 13 July 2010 - 05:41 AM, said:

Awesome update mate - loved it and had a fair few laughs too.

Cheers mate, glad your enjoying it!

Jasper, on 13 July 2010 - 12:03 PM, said:

Awesome stuff mate! Looks really, really good! Keep up the good work!

Cheers mate! Thanks very much! Glad your enjoying it!

[localhero]

You might neeed this for Anya later if things go well. "Nahi duzu nerekin eskontzea?"