So – I’ve seen that Eddie Howe has been given the England job after Gareth and my small indiscretions (not worthy of the sack, if you were to really think about it), and now Philip Cocu is at Bournemouth. The merry-go-round continues apace. I have had offers from Rangers, Bury, Chesterfield, Sligo, Bogner Regis, FC United (!), and Dundee. I really wanted the Rangers job, but I fucked up the interview. They wanted to win the league! I said not with that budget! I said, ‘Brendan’s got it sown up, lads. Least I can do is try and smash him in the Old Firm games.’ They said, ‘Do one, Ray. You’re a dinosaur.’ Indeed.
It now looks like I will be driving to Dundee – but not in my bare feet. I go there with my head held high. Perhaps there will be Toblerone. Perhaps not, but there will be four-four-fucking-two. And a long ball or two. 2.1k a week, too. Get a fair few bibs and cones for that. I am finally at the top of the tree. Just got to get Flood onside.
I go to speak to the chairman. He meets me in the car park of a Waitrose. Posh, I think. He’s trying to intimidate me, but I won’t let him. I look him in the eyes and say, ‘get us a senior affiliate. We can get some decent players in on loan. You’ve given me peanuts to deal with and I have a nut allergy.’ It didn’t come out the way I’d rehearsed in my Rover, but he agreed. One nill to Ray. But my confidence laster less time than a Syrian ceasefire, which was a cocktail in the Dundee player’s lounge coincidentally. Can I have a few lads going round primary schools looking for decent kids? No. One all then. Fair play, Thompson. Fair play.
So I went down to look at our youth players at St. Andrews Uni playing fields. Now I see why Thompson wanted to meet in a Waitrose car park. We are a posh club. Three players caught my eye. They were the only ones actually kicking a ball and not eating a twix whilst thumbing through their phones. Chalmers, Reekie and Taylor have a date with destiny.
I’ve been looking at the betting odds. We’re favourite to go up. 5-1 on. I quickly put some money on Falkirk with a bookie I know in Brighton. He has a 24 hour bar under a kebab shop. I wouldn’t eat one after midnight though. Gave me a terrifying night with both ends electrified.
I have to head down to training now. Getting my rope out the back of the Rover to tie my back four together in line. For-four-fucking-two.
Tactics next week.