“Alright mate, haven’t spoken to you for a while. I remember you said you were looking for an after school job… well I might have got just the ticket for you. Why don’t you come and meet me by the pavilion in Toxeth Park at about nine on Saturday morning and I’ll explain everything”. “Sure thing Jon” came the reply, I’m finished with school for good in a few weeks anyway”.

I’m really beginning to get into the swing of this whole management gig; gone are my days of waking up mid-afternoon and moping about the house, I’m actually beginning to look forward to the sound of my alarm clock blaring at six in the morning.

I haven’t seen much of Deej lately, but I’m certain he’s intentionally choosing to remain aloof, in order to try and see if I have what it takes to be the figurehead of this club.

It was Friday morning and with the weekend beckoning, I would usually have been preparing for a particularly heavy few days on the hooch. But not today, no, I had far more pressing concerns. You see, whilst I may well be the manager, controlling an often unruly group of fifty players was becoming an increasingly difficult task.

I’d already noticed a few divisions and cliques forming amongst the lads; David Owen is certainly making a big impression on some of the younger squad members and is always willing to offer advice to the likes of Sefton, Mush and Volman, who hang on his every word. As I’d twigged early on, Jamie Reynolds is already proving to be a bit of a handful; questioning a few of my training methods, but so far, he seems to be having a positive influence and is a real livewire in training.

I’ve noticed that the Asian boys - Stanley and Fredriksen - tend to stick together, I’ve barely heard a peep out of either of them, but they’re both working hard and I can’t ask for much more at this stage. Paul Williams and Ponting appear to be coming pretty tight; consummate professionals, they’re both the first to arrive at training in the morning and the last ones to leave at night.

That is… asides from me. You see, unbeknownst to the players I’m actually sleeping rough on a park bench outside the pavilion. Now that I’m no longer on the club scene, James and Brad don’t want to know me, I’m too ashamed to try and worm my way back into Sonia’s affections, so for now, I must be the only homeless manager in the entire Football League.

But looking on the bright-side, today is Friday and my giro is due. But for once, this cheque isn’t destined for the Golden Arks’ coffers, oh no, today I was shopping for a new suit to wear for the CM Rovers first official match, a pre-season friendly against Bishop’s Stortford this Saturday. Getting totally carried away with myself, I considered this to be our first step on the road to footballing immortality… I guess only time will tell whether or not this optimism is misplaced, but as I caught the bus into town, I was too excited to let reality drag me down.

My new suit purchased, I decided to get an early night, full of anticipation about the following day. Dan Robinson had kindly offered me a place for the night, I’d told him I couldn’t sleep at my flat because of a carbon monoxide leek. “I trust that this little gesture will guarantee me a starting place tomorrow” the cocky fifteen year old asked with a cheesy grin on his face. “Stranger things have happened” I replied, pulling my bed covers up over my head. “Big day tomorrow Daniel, let’s get some shut eye”.

If only I could have followed my own advice. However, I was a bag of nerves; I kept telling myself “it’s only a friendly, it’s the performance, not the result that matters’, but deep down I was desperate for the boys to get off to a winning start.

I awoke shortly before 5am on Saturday morning and proceeded to mill about the house, I rang the coach firm to double-check that the coach we had hired would be ready for 10am and then it dawned on me - I’m meeting Tom at the training ground at nine!

I dashed over to Toxeth Park, but it was too late, I couldn’t see my young brother-in-law anywhere. “Damn-it” I cursed, realising that I had let Sonia’s little brother down, again. I was desperate to get in touch with the lad and knew he would be heartbroken, he was only fifteen and loved football as much as me. I reckoned that if I could get him involved with the CM Rovers, then that would put me back in Sonia’s good books, but with the players already beginning to arrive for the coach journey, I had no time to make amends or apologise.

I was delighted that each and every player had arrived in plenty of time and as they took their seats on the coach, I pulled my team sheet out of my pocket and then bellowed for the players to quiet down.

“Right boys, we’re playing a straight forward four-four-two today, no arguments, if your name is called, I want you to come to the front of the bus and grab a shirt” I said, picking up a cardboard box full of red and black striped shirts, clumsily embroided with the CM Rovers logo to the left of centre.

“In goal, Buck gets the nod, let’s give Tommy a round of applause” I ordered, as I watched Ponting and Karl Robinson’s heads drop. “Right my defensive line up…” I began, as the driver began to pull away from Toxeth Park. “At left back, Phil Macey, my right back is Matt Woodhouse”. As the coach roared onto the motorway, I continued “At centre back, our new captain…” I said as the boys began to cheer, “Our new captain, David Owen and his partner Joe Shemeld”.

I held out the cardboard box containing the players jerseys as the Owen and Shemeld eagerly stepped up to gather their treasured shirts. “In the centre of midfield…” I shouted, trying to be heard over the hum of the coach engine “Luke Sefton and Jonathan Stanley… please step up” I said, as the players looked at each other, confused by the young Singaporean’s inclusion.

“You what?!” I heard someone cry from the back of the coach. It quickly became clear who the dissenter was, “You what gaffer? How are you going to pick Stanley ahead of me? I’m twice the player he is” Jamie Reynolds said with an aggrieved look on his face. “You will all get your chance” I replied, “But I’m picking a team that I think can do a job on Stortford today and this is my decision” I replied sternly.

I chose to ignore the fact that Reynolds had uttered ‘what a joke’ as he re-took his seat. “On the flanks, we’re going to have Mush on the left and Dan Robinson on the right”. The two teenagers punched the air as they gleefully ran to the front of the coach to collect their shirts.

“And finally…” I said as the rest of the players began chatting amongst each other. “Finally.. up front, I’m going to go with Nyborg and Clarke”. I looked on as the boys who had missed out on making history as the first players to pull on the CM Rovers shirt, glanced enviously at those who had earned the honour.

I stood on the touchline in my second-hand Asda suit, chest puffed out with pride as my team took to the field in front of a ramshackle crowd of about fifty spectators. The supporters looked about as uninterested as Stortford manager Mark Simpson, who hurriedly shook my hand before clambering into his seat in the dugout, without a second glance.

“Today, is your day, boy, let‘s get this party started” I heard as the game got underway. I looked behind me and saw Deej leaning over his seat, with his arm outstretched, he shook my hand and wished me the best of look.

I learned pretty quickly that hours on the training ground don’t necessarily equal a quality display on the pitch. But after seeing my team toil for the first fifteen minutes, we were granted a fortuitous penalty as the waif-like Stanley went down under a nothing challenge from one of the Stortford defenders. However, I wasn’t complaining and as Macey stood over the penalty kick, I couldn’t help but punch the air as he calmly slotted the ball home to give us the lead over the Conference South side.

We repeated this trick with only five minutes to go before half time. Clarke was felled by Stortford’s Kelly Udoji just inside the area. Up stepped Macey again, but the twenty-two year olds weak left-footed spot kick trickled into the ‘keepers grateful arms.

Stortford had gained the upper hand as half time approached, so it was a sweet relief for me to get the boys in at half time, still leading.

However, much as I wanted the win, this was still a training exercise in essence, so Stanley, Sefton, D. Robinson, Mush and Nyborg, made way for Frederiksen, Reynolds, John, Dobinho and Volman at the break

Stortford took the ascendancy in the second half and but for a few last ditch tackles from Shemeld and Owen, we would have surrendered our lead. However, much to Mark Simpson’s dismay, a very accomplished counter attacking move from my team saw us consolidate our victory with just ten minutes left.

Dobinho strode out of defence and hit a brilliant pass to Mush, Mush then centred the ball to fourteen year old Lucas Volman who smashed the ball high into the top left hand corner of the net, to make the score 2-0.

The young Luxembourger would go on to grab a second goal in the dying moments of the game to really rub Stortford’s noses in it and give us an almost emphatic sounding 3-0 victory.

I’m not quite sure how to articulate just how happy I am with the boys. But I will be making darn sure that they don’t get carried away with themselves. This was a great result, but ultimately, it will count for nothing unless we make a bright start to the league campaign.

Still, I’m very encouraged with what I’ve seen today and with two weeks and another two fixtures to go before the start of the new season, I’m sure my ever elusive chairman will share my relish as to what the future holds.