Inspired by the work of Iain Macintosh, and with far too much time on his hands, Simon Furnivall has ventured back into the world of Football Manager-based storytelling. Things did not start well with Bala Town, is an upturn in fortunes around the corner? Read Part 1 here
The players huddled quietly around my bedside, the smiles on their faces belying the good news.
“Bought you some grapes, boss.” Standard. My little episode after the Haverfordwest match had earned me a comfortable stay in the local hospital.
“We won yesterday, boss.” The nurse had already informed me of the Newton result, hoping that some positive news would aid my recovery. I just thought it was the painkillers talking.
“Four two. We were two down at half time, fought back, Gethin scored two late on.” I could see Chris Gethin standing amongst the crowd, a shy smile edging across his face. The striker had been the subject of much of my ire, mostly for being about ten times less accurate than Emile Heskey, but securing three points got him right back in my good books.
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“We’re not bottom anymore, either.”
“Who is?”
“Airbus. They lost again. We play them next week.”
“I know.”
“Will you be out of here.”
“No. Comfy.” The players shifted uncomfortably, I got the distinct feeling that they preferred having Steve in charge anyway.
***
“How are you doing, boss?” It was only Steve who visited this time. A sheepish look in the bastard’s eyes, his hand constantly fiddling with his unkempt beard.
“How many?”
“How many what?”
“Did we lose by?” He looked at the ground and shuffled in his chair before finally letting go of the news.
“Two nil.”
“So we’re bottom again?” A swift nod of his head.
“I’ve got to go, boss. You’re back for TNS?” This time it was my turn to look nervous. A return against the league leaders. Oh funsies.
***
I kid you not. Sunshine in Wales. In September. My return to the club had been met by some truly wonderful insincere smiles, and players who looked even worse in training than I had remembered. But at least the sun was shining.
A blackened sky and relentless rain would have been more fitting for what happened over the ninety minutes against TNS, however. We had been bad before, but this was something truly special. The only Welsh team that anyone has heard of should have scored twelve or thirteen, and only shooting almost as bad as ours limited them to four, two of which they’d scored inside the opening ten minutes.
The defeat had seen us slip further away at the bottom of the table, Airbus claiming a fourth point of the season with a 1-1 draw against Prestatyn. I was fairly staggered that the board weren’t starting to consider my position, perhaps they realised just what trash I had to work with. They certainly did eight days later after we had lost yet again, though for only the third time in the season we had taken the lead.
Shaun Kelly, a centre back in the true ‘lumper’ style, had scored a consolation against TNS and threw his oversized frame towards another header at Prestatyn, somehow guiding it inside the post. Our lead last for all of five minutes, and we were in our rightful position (losing) by half time. The only bright spot of the day was that Airbus had lost too, so stayed just a point ahead of us, but long before the full time whistle I was longing for the comfort and quiet of my lovely hospital bed.
