Roy of the Rovers A New Beginning

Week 30



















* * *

Roy Races, not Rocky Races, Baltimore Bullets lined up in a 3-4-3 formation, a system made
famous as by Johan Seegruns Alkhoven side of the late 70s. The 1978 European Champions
played with a fluidity and skill rarely seen since and Roy thought the tactics of Total Football
to be perfect for the American market. The unwitting opponents, San Francisco Shooters,
had not expected to be on the receiving end of a Roy Race tactical masterclass, the news of
Roys temporary appointment as Head Coach being announced just three hours before kick-
off. But The Bullets were flying, taking an early two-goal lead, both assisted by their
mercurial captain, Carlos Figueroa. The legendary manager leapt to his feet as the second
goal cracked into the net. Figueroas delicate chip over the defence, bounced perfectly for
Matt Thatcher to calmly slot past the advancing goalkeeper. Race turned to the nearest
television camera and gave a knowing nod and wink. His son would be watching from a
nearby hotel room the plans they had devised together were working perfectly.

Carlos Figueroa jogged past the dugout, giving the head coach a high-five, Thats how we
need to play, I can play deep and still influence the game. Roy was so pleased with the
Bullets first-half display. Figueroa was pulling the strings from his holding midfield position.
The other three midfielders and the two wide forwards interchanged positions with
freedom, allowing them to show off their technical skills. Thatcher was the focal point of the
attacks, he was an experienced MLS player, aged twenty-nine, but had yet to make his
international debut despite captaining his country at every junior age level. The strike was
his first of the season, Rocky had only been using him as an impact substitute, but Roy
instantly recognised the need for more experience in the side and selected Thatcher as his
central striker. His job was to get into the danger area, hassle the defenders, but above all
else; score goals.

In the Bullets dressing room at half-time, Roy stood in his tracksuit with a beaming smile. He
welcomed every player into the room, with a personalised comment or piece of advice.
Once the squad was assembled, Race began his teamtalk, I cant say how pleased I am with
that performance; a tremendous effort, a real team display! But weve won nothing yet, the
Shooters will come back stronger. Our formation surprised them, Im sure they were
expecting the 4-3-3, but they will adapt. Theyve a good coach, who right now will be
explaining the best way to counter us! Figueroa spoke, Were not going to change tactics
are we boss? Roy shook his head, Of course not. I want us playing this way because it
brings the best out of you all. We are not a physical side, we are quick and very fit, but you
have been sacrificing skill for pace and power. Now you will focus on skill and you will win!

The Bullets players let out a collective Woo! as typical in American sports and their captain
rose, Lets go Bullets! Lets go! With more than five minutes of half-time still remaining,
Figueroa led his side back onto the field, the near capacity crowd of twelve thousand giving
the Bullets a rousing reception. Roy waited until the dressing room was empty, he took a
moment, to take in the scene, the clumps of turf and mud on the floor, the smell of Deep
Heat and sweaty men, random items of football kit scattered about. He was back in charge
and he was loving it.
* * *

The clean Swedish air felt so different to the misty smog of Melchester, Jake Cheetham, the
injured captain of Melchester Rovers, could take massive deep breaths, filling his lungs,
without a cough or splutter. Jake was on his morning powerwalk, five kilometres in his
special trainers around the grounds of Doctor Nic Johanssons magnificent recovery facility
on the outskirts of Zalmo in southern Sweden. The retreat had been so reinvigorating that
Cheetham had forgotten to check the latest results from the Premier League for days. It was
not that he had stopped caring, just that Johansson and his team had kept him so busy. He
did three powerwalks a day now, four short gym sessions, a physical check-up in the early
evening and lots of rest. Jakes was walking with his new friend, a Olympic ice-hockey player
from the local side. Magnus Olsson was a giant of a man, typically Swedish, tanned and
blond, he had big shoulders and enormous calves; a perfect figure for the intense pace and
physicality of his sport.

He had suffered an identical injury to Jake in a very similar way, overbalancing on a fast turn,
but it amazed the footballer just how different their recovery programmes were. Magnus
weighed fifteen stone and stood at six feet two inches, but physically he towered over
Cheetham, his exercise regime involved twice any many gym sessions and lots of upper-body
work. Jake was particularly jealous of the meals Magnus was served, last night at dinner the
Swede ate steak and salad while Jake was on pasta and grilled chicken, again. The
importance of diet to a professional athlete was something that English footballers still did
not appreciate. Johanssons dietician had explained to Cheetham that what he ate did not
only influence his fitness, but more importantly to him now, affected the speed at which
injuries could heal. So for now he would be envious of Magnus food, but not tempted at all
to diverge from the careful planning of his doctor.

The pair walked down the slight incline to the edge of the grounds. A light smell of pine filled
the air, Its great, no, my country? You like it here? Magnus asked, I do, mate. I wish I
could go out and see some of the countryside, do some fishing. Do you fish? Fishing was
Jakes passion, away from Melchester Rovers he spent more time on a river bank or beside a
lake than anywhere else. Fishing, I like, but in the sea only. I like the salt in the wind and
waves. Then eat the fish! I tell you, when Doctor Nic lets us out, we go fishing, at the river
and then I take you out to sea! The big Swede pointed out across the water, the bench that
marked the halfway point of their walk had a great view out to sea, the bridge to Denmark
just about visible beyond some low fog. The sight impressed the boy from the Essex, it
reminded of the view from Southend across the Thames Estuary, that he had grown up with
almost every weekend, but a whole lot nicer; for a start the sea was not leaden grey. Thats
a deal Magnus! Ive got many fishing stories to bore you with!

The two athletes set off on their return to the dining room for breakfast, this time they did
not talk much. They were getting on really well, for a moment Jake imagined what his time
here would be like without Magnus, he would be so bored, probably think of nothing but
Rovers and the World Cup. But right now he did not even know the results of his clubs last
two matches, vital games against North Vale and Weston Villa. He must check when he had
finished breakfast. Everpools last minute goal had really dented Rovers hopes of finishing
fourth, the Blues still had two games in hand and as far as Jake knew remained in pole
position to take the final Champions League place. But if Rovers kept winning

* * *

































* * *


Everpool maintained their grip on the final Champions League qualification
place with an impressive win at Tynecaster United.

Ricky Lloyd set Everpool on their way to their biggest away win of the season with a
superb first-half solo effort. Arun Uras finished off from close range just after the
break and Lee Donald wrapped up the triumph, thumping home Uras's lay-off near
the end following a run by Fahad Mustapha, who played a part in all three goals.

Tynecaster manager Frank Dymond was completing the final game of his three-
match touchline ban after his on-field row with referee Mick Jones at Oldfield. And his
players could only watch as Lloyd waltzed through them for the opener.

At just 20, Lloyd has been one of the young players of the season and, after racing
onto Mustapha's chested pass, he burst from inside his own half deep into the
Tynecaster box, before finishing crisply past Tommy Kruys. Everpool's only other
decent chance of note in the opening period fell to Uras, but after running onto
Donald's through ball, the striker's low shot was turned away by Kruys. Largely
though, it was a battling defensive display from the visitors, typified by Paul
Porschevski, who ended up sporting a large bandage on his forehead after an aerial
clash with Michael de Mol.

A combination of Porschevski, Liam Roberts and Dean Robins flew in to deny Cheick
Peri and that endeavour was rewarded in the opening minutes of the second period,
when Donald sent Mustapha away down the right flank. His cross was perfect for
Uras, who tucked home his 13th goal of the season from the edge of the six-yard
box.

Christian Terrier had a shot beaten away by Travis Bryant as Tynecaster tried to
rally, before Kruys was forced into something similar to deny Uras as Everpool tried
to strike on the counter-attack.

After Valery Akale slid wide when arriving with perfect timing at the far post following
some excellent work from Hanif Alicarte, the belief seemed to ebb out of the hosts.
And Mustapha combined with Uras to set up Donald for the third.

The result means fourth-placed Everpool are now two points clear of Melchester
Rovers with a game in hand, and, crucially, Rovers still have to play challengers
Kelburn and Portdean.



Vernon Eliots disappointment was obvious, he had just watched Everpool destroy a strong
Tynecaster side without breaking sweat. He knew that the television cameras would be
focused on him as the full-time whistle blew, so kept his head down and tried not to show
any emotion. In the studio, pundit Chippy Croker read his body language perfectly, That,
viewers, is a broken man. All the hard work he had put in this season, probably means
nothing. Melchester Rovers, realistically have to win their remaining matches to get fourth
and still hope the Blues slip up. Its out of his hands and he doesnt like it! He wont sleep
well tonight!

Vernons thoughts were already on Rovers next match, at home to third placed Kelburn, the
club where he was assistant manager before being appointed at Mel Park. Kelburn were
solid in third place, no chance of winning the title and no chance of finishing outside the
Champions League places. In effect they had nothing to play for, Rovers should beat them,
they had to show they had the stomach and the quality for the top European competition.