“Oh for crying out loud… look at the state of you Jonathan”. My eyes strained as I attempted to open them and was nearly blinded by the early morning sunshine. I must have forgot that Sonia had thrown me out the previous night and after stumbling home, I had fallen asleep inside our porch. “What?” I replied dozily.

Sonia stood in the doorway with a look of contempt on her face, tightly clasping Dylan’s hand. “Is this how you want your son to see you, as a worthless lowlife and a drunk?”. “No” I mustered, half-heartedly, as I groggily tried to climb to my feet, “Y’alright son, how’s about you give your old dad a hug before you get off to school” I said trying to sound chirpy.

But Dylan looked scared and hid behind Sonia, “Daddy smells bad, tell him to go away Mummy”. He had never reacted like that to me before and it made me feel rotten, Sonia tried to console the boy, but then turned and vented her anger at me. “This is a new low… even for you, Jonathan. Your son - your own son is too scared to even look at you. What kind of man are you? Now, I’m going to take him to school, I suggest you go upstairs, grab the rest of your stuff and then get out of both of our lives forever, we’re better off without you”. “But baby” I replied, “Can’t we work this out?” I suggested, more in hope than anything.

“No, Jonathan! How many more chances do you think your going to get - you’re a waste of space, plain and simple. Now I’m going to take our son to school, by the time I get back, I want you gone. And don’t come back!” she hissed before marching down the driveway, out of the gates and more than likely, out of my life forever.

Despite having a hangover that could slay a horse, seeing the two of them washing their hands of me was a very sobering experience.

I walked back into the family home for the last time, headed up the stairs and began gathering the last of my belongings; my leather jacket, my toothbrush, my treasured football (signed by David Hirst, himself). As I took one last rueful look around, I caught sight of a photo of the three of us together. It was from a holiday we had been on in Greece a few years earlier.

As I gazed at the three happy, smiling faces staring back at me, I knew that I had messed up big time. I resolved there and then to turn my life around, my family may have given up on me, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to give up on them. I pulled the gold framed picture off the wall and shoved it into my holdall - I was determined to win Sonia back and become a father Dylan could be proud of.

But there was one small problem; where was I going to go, what was I going to do? They say Rome wasn’t built in a day, but heck, if it had been left up to people like me, Rome wouldn‘t have been built altogether. Right then, I had a hazy flashback to the previous night - mixed in with all the excess and embarrassment - I recalled a Scottish man, ‘Deej’ I think his name was… and the piece of paper! I began frantically rummaging through my pockets and sure enough, there it was, I uncrumpled the note, headed with the slogan ‘Deej McBastard: Entrepreneur, Businessman, Realtor, Football Club Owner, Lawyer - call Deej for all your business needs’.

He had me at ‘Football Club Owner’, I began frantically punching in the digits of his phone number on my mobile and then took a second to compose myself as it began to ring. “Hello, Deej McBastard, how can I change your life”. “Deej” I said hesitantly, “Deej, it’s Jonathan… from the Golden Ark last night”.

I waited for what seemed like an eternity for a reply, ‘Ah Mr. Wolstenholme, my good man, I’ve been expecting to hear from you. I was most intrigued by our little chat yesterday evening and would like to meet up with you to discuss my ideas further”.

For the first time in a long while I began to feel an unfamiliar emotion - hope. Butterflies churned in my stomach as I replied “How do you mean?”. The self-assured Scotsman replied “All will become clear soon Mr Wolstenholme, do you know where Toxeth Park is?”. “Yes” I said, “Meet me there in an hour and I will explain everything to you”.

And with that, the phone went dead. Toxeth Park was five miles away, but without a penny to my name, I couldn’t afford the bus fare, so I hastily began the long walk for my meeting with destiny.

I was absolutely exhausted by the time I finally arrived, a full fifteen minutes late - but a decade of fags, booze and drugs will have that affect on you. ‘Where now?’ I thought to myself, as I looked around, trying to spy Deej‘s location.

I stood staring out onto the horizon but couldn’t see a soul. Just then, my mobile began to ring “Hello?”, “Look behind you” came the reply. As soon as I turned around, I was confronted by Deej springing out of a bush, I nearly jumped out of my skin but Deej was overcome by hysterical laughter.

As he finally composed him, he greeted me warmly before patting me on the back and began guiding me down the footpath. “So Jonathan, as you probably know by now I’m a bit of a businessman. I’ve got quite a few irons in a variety of different fires; real estate, law and numerous other little enterprises, but now I want to follow my real passion and that passion is football”.

Deej spoke exuberantly about his love of the beautiful game, he reminded me of how I was when I was younger, although, for him it wasn’t just a pipe dream. “I’ve just bought my own little franchise’ he said ‘… gonna call ‘em the CM Rovers, I wanted to called ‘em the Deej Rovers, but that doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, do you think?”

I grinned anxiously in agreement, before enquiring “So, what do I have to with all of this?”. As we continued to walk through the park, down it’s winding paths and steep hills, Deej responded “Why Jonathan, your going to manage this little outfit of mine”.

I stopped dead in my tracks, “Say that I again” I replied, shell-shocked, “Your going to manage them Jonathan, there aren’t many people out there with a UEFA Pro License and there’s even fewer of those willing to start in the eighth tier of English football. But from what you told me last night, you’ll take any job in football you can get. You see… your just like me Jonathan, you’ve got football running through your veins. The only difference is that, whereas I am a winner in life - you are a loser - but that will all soon change”.

I was again a little taken aback by Deej and his ‘tell it as it is’ attitude, but hey, it’s not everyday you are presented with the opportunity of a life time. We stopped walking and Deej turned to face me, “So, do we have a deal Jonathan? You’ve told me you want to be a father your son can be proud of, I am giving you that chance - are the CM Rovers your destiny?” he said, holding out his hand.

I smiled and gleefully accepted his offer, “We have a deal Mr McBastard”.