Written by MickyDidIt89
I do wonder how difficult all this football management malarkey really is. You see, I’m a Rocket Scientist and even that, which is so often used as the benchmark clever dick occupation, is not that hard either.
However, for the purposes of this article, I think it would be fair for me to clarify my qualifications as a Rocket Scientist. Picture this. November 5th 1989, on the flat roof of a top floor flat in West London, and I have decided to host my own fireworks display. Well, when I say fireworks, what I mean is firework singular. I pooled my then very limited resources into securing ten of the largest rockets I could find. I then thought what a brilliant idea it would be to dismantle them and construct one enormous rocket to amuse and entertain myself, my chums and anyone else in the W11 area of Notting Hill Gate. With the aid of the top section of a police cone, some gaffer tape, the suitably firm inner cardboard tube from a roll of carpet and some fuse-like string, I thought to myself how simple but effective this was going to be. I could illuminate the night sky to whoops of joy from all around, and how clever they will all think I am.
All did not end well. The pointy bit did enter the night sky. The remainder, unhappily, did not. The down blast from the launch pad, or chimney pot, caused much discomfort to the pervert below in Flat 4 as his sealed chimney re-opened, while events that followed became known locally as the The Elgin Crescent Affair. I cannot for legal reasons go into what followed, other than to say that my knowledge of my neighbours’ less than savoury “hobby” was enough to ensure a settlement was reached.
Now onto this Football Management stuff. No stats man me, but my money says that there is most probably a close correlation between amount spent and final league position. You finish above your allotted slot, and you have done well. Below, not so good. I have no idea what our final place should be on account of this formula, but we cannot be far off. Then, throw in the hand of Lady Luck with her non-penalties, intervention of woodwork, injuries and so on and it’s easy to see what a fickle mistress Lady L can be.
A few seasons ago, we finished about ten points behind the eventual champions, and I realised that an additional five goals could have seen us winners (turning a 0-0 draw into a 1-0 defeat of close rivals would have been transformed into two extra points for ourselves while denying them one).
While we approach the business end of the transfer window, I ask myself what it is that would enhance my season. The answer is a light dusting of magic. Nothing too practical, but someone to help lift the gloom during these shadowy and austere times. Someone to illuminate the dark winter skies above The Emirates. Unlike my rocket.
Even us brainbox Rocket Scientists get it wrong occasionally, but you know what, it’s about giving it a go. So what’s a Football Manager to do? Entertain, perform with dignity and style, give it a go and lighten our weekends with a sprinkling of hope and anticipation. We may end up above our allotted place, and then there’s always the possibility of a Trophy along the way. It’s all a bit like building a rocket to entertain your chums. There’s always the chance that it might come off, but so long as you are aiming for the stars, who knows, it may work. I think we are doing alright really.