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:
I have a secret to tell you, reader. Nothing happened to me this week.
This isn’t like when people say they’ve done nothing when really they’ve been shopping or watched a television series. I just laid on the sofa, watched the odd football game and did a few chores around the house. The most exciting thing that happened was when I discovered that the milk had a later expiration date than I first thought.
Luckily, a few of you have written in with questions and queries that I can answer like I did a few months ago. It’s almost as if you only write in when I don’t do anything. Almost as if it’s a desperate attempt to fill space when I have no ideas about what to write…
Do you have a set meal/routine before a match? G Hawkins
I know some of these new age managers can’t eat before a game because they’re so absorbed in the match. To me, this is faked intensity. Don’t get me wrong, I’m mentally involved in the fixtures I’m managing, but if I don’t have a full stomach I’m likely to collapse.
So I stuff myself with as much food that my stomach can handle. My favourite meal to do this with is a Sunday roast. A huge slab of beef with potatoes, veg and Yorkshire puddings. But if the game is on a Saturday (you can’t have a Sunday roast on a Saturday, that’s sacrilege) I’ll find the nearest fast food establishment and order two large meals for myself.
As you may have suspected, this has often resulted in me vomiting during a game. At Charlton, I had a small drain installed under my seat in the dugout, which alleviated the ‘disposal’ problem somewhat. Sadly, I wasn’t at West Ham long enough for them to install the drain. This resulted in several occasions when I pretended to take a drink out of a water bottle, only to be slyly squirting bits of KFC back into the container. Not a pleasant experience, but a necessary one.
Do you allow players to have sex before a match? T Castle
I’ll be honest, I’ve never had a conversation with any player over this. I’ve never done the research to find out if this has any effect on a player’s performance.
I won’t name them here, but I had one player who routinely injured either his groin or his abdomen. It was later discovered that he was trying to launch a pornography career. He was regularly having sex with multiple partners each night of the week.
I took him to one side and read him the riot act. I told him this wasn’t very professional behaviour and he would have to choose the football club or his adult film career.
I’m not sure if all those adult films awards he earned are worth it. H could have had a brilliant football career. He had unparalleled stamina. Although, I suppose it was his incredible stamina that earned him his ‘Best Gangbang Scene’ award.
What’s the biggest animal you could defeat in a cage match with your bare hands? No tools allowed! J Hunt
An interesting and violent question.
Obviously, I’m easily going to defeat a cat, or any small dog, such as terrier or maybe even a King Charles Cavalier. A Labrador is probably too big. By the time dogs get that big their jaws are powerful enough to cause some real damage.
I’m going to plump for a goat. I’ll leave out the gruesome details, but I reckon if you seized the correct limbs and then chose your next move carefully it would be an easy battle.
(I would like to point out at this point I do not plan to ever do this to an animal, this is a hypothetical posed by one of my readers. I would never hurt an innocent animal. If I ever have, it was most definitely an accident).
Is there anything you have an irrational desire for? P Harrington
For some reason, I have been desperate for a mortgage recently. I’ve actually paid off the mortgage on the family home. But now I want another one. Not just any mortgage. An Expat Mortgage. I’m not even an Expat. Maybe, if I moved abroad, I could get one? I wonder if Carol would mind…
Why aren’t you getting a phone call when Pards, Big Sam, Moysey, and Hoddo all get jobs? Do you feel left out? D. Bassett
This is a ridiculous question.
Maybe I am getting phone calls, but just don’t choose to write about them? Did you ever think about that, Mr. Bassett?
I’ve turned down more Premier League jobs than most people get offered in a lifetime.
I’ll tell you another thing for free, I’d do better than all those managers put together!
Pards is a creep who can only get teams to play well for three months. Big Sam plays some of the most boring football I’ve ever seen. Everyone knows that Moyes is no longer human, now that his constant failure has destroyed his soul. ‘Hoddo’ as you call him, can’t do anything beyond getting a mediocre team to finish mid-table. Plus his toes are smashed to pieces, a result of a later life attempt at a dancing career gone awry.
Any club would want me as a manager! I play attractive football. My teams score goals. The fans get entertained. But I’ve taken myself off the market. I’m now helping useless managers, like the ones listed above, to get better performances out of their squads.
I’m sure, in due time, I will work with all of them. Then you’ll see. You’ll see their form improve tenfold. They’ll shoot up the table, out of any danger, but will I get credit? No. I will silently fade into the darkness, satisfied that I know it was my influence, my expertise that saved these dreadful men their jobs and their reputation.
Ultimately, they will be fired, once their chairman realises the empty football he’s forced upon the club’s fan base. Someone with actual talent will be hired. But once another club falls into trouble, they’ll return. They feed off misery. Who will they call in their hour of need? Me.
I am football’s saviour.