A former Premier League manager approached us here at Tales and asked that we publish his diaries, so he could show the public what life is like out of the game. His only request was that he remained anonymous. Below is this week’s entry:
It’s becoming that time of year when several clubs are considering whether or not to fire their manager. As an out of work manager, keen to re-enter the game, it’s my responsibility to make sure I’m readily available to take one of these jobs once it becomes free. Personally, I write a list of each of the teams, including all the positives and negatives I can think of. Naturally, this list is quite dynamic and can change at the drop of the hat. Some managers will recover whilst others will be removed in double time, only for another wily manager to take the job that should be mine. Below is the list in its current form, so that you can see the level of work and research that an out of work manager has to put in to be able to return to the game.
- They are a really big club. Really big, they would be by far the biggest I have ever managed. Of course, with that comes pressure, but I can handle that. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to please a fat, topless Geordie on a weekend.
- They have a massive stadium. The Sports Direct Arena/St James Park is the seventh largest football stadium in England, much bigger than both the Valley and Upton Park (R.I.P). Standing in the dugout on match day on such hallowed ground would be a privilege. I would be stood on the same hallowed turf as Sir Bobby Robson, Alan Shearer and Joe Kinnear; a true honour.
- Their recent past is filled with failure. This is the biggest pro; unless I was somehow a really poor manager, I would instantly be a success. Barring last season’s win the in the Championship, their seasons have recently been worse than average. So if I can be slightly above average, I’m actually the most successful manager they’ve had in twenty years. That’s just simple maths.
- It’s in Newcastle. Halt there, people who are quick to jump to conclusions! I simply mean it’s far away from where I currently live. I would have no qualms in living there per se, I love to drink semi naked as much as the next man, but I simply can’t make Carol move so far away. Although I would be able to move away from that damn neighbour…maybe I should move this to the pro list?
- The owner is a terrible man. I don’t just mean that he wouldn’t give me the funds to be able to purchase players and improve the team. He vomits in fireplaces, he mistreats his workers and he has one of the world’s most punchable faces. Alan Pardew told me that he walks around St James Park wearing only a Sports Direct inflatable ring and regularly slaps people with giant calculators. A truly horrible man, I cannot work for such a scumbag.
West Ham United
- My boyhood team. I grew up a mile from West Ham station. Cut me and I bleed claret and blue (well obviously I bleed blood, that’s a literary technique called a metaphor, look it up). I made my debut at West Ham and I still check their scores on that crap digital version of Ceefax the BBC still have. If the opportunity arose to manage such a great side I couldn’t turn it down. Except…
- The team is crap. No offence to Slaven Bilic, a man I have a lot of time for, but my word he’s assembled a real dud of a squad. I consider myself a very talented manager, but it would take me years to sort out that mess. Masuaku? No thanks! Jose Fonte? Cheque, please! An old Pablo Zabaleta? Not on your nelly! Now you might say, ‘but Alan, what about Mark Noble?’ To that I would say, eat a grenade! There is a little-known fact, that Mark Noble smells very strongly of damp, and I don’t mean a damp man, he smells like damp wood. Why do you think he’s always in so much space? Dean Ashton once attempted to confront him about it, but the stench caused him to spend three days in intensive care.
- I sued the current owners. This is a bit of a sticking point, but after the owners sold George McCartney and Anton Ferdinand without my permission something deep within me just snapped. They sold George McCartney. Take the two best Beatles, smash them together and add in a sprinkling of mediocre premier league left back and there you have him. They go and sell him to ruddy Sunderland. I couldn’t let them get away with it and as revenge, they’ve been destroying that club ever since. All because they hate me. Pathetic.
- Birmingham has more canals than Venice. You can have that one for free.
- I would be taking a job directly after a good friend failed. Harry and I go way back; the man is a legend of the game. Yes, there was all that tax stuff, but in a court of law he was found innocent. Yes, there was that time he asked me to hold onto a Victorian diving suit that was lined with cash and stained with blood. I only held it for a month and then gave it back, nothing illegal about that. However, the time the two of us drove a car out into an abandoned field, stripped it of any items with a serial number and then set it on fire was more concerning. Better consult a lawyer actually…
So there you have it. Newcastle looks the best bet, but to be very honest with you reader, none of these posts are particularly alluring. I need a new managerial job soon, otherwise, I’ll end up doing something pathetic, like reviewing supermarket beer on YouTube. Why can’t the Palace manager be fired? Or Fulham, I liked my little jaunt at Fulham. I will pencil them in for the future. Watch your back Slavisa Jokanovic. Even though you could definitely tear my throat out, I’m coming for you!