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Hi
Gaffer,
I
thought long and
hard about this
letter before
sending it, but
having seen how
you have helped
others in the
past, I decided to
get in touch. You
see, recently
while on World Cup
duty with the land
of my father, I
suffered the
terrible indignity
of being
substituted after
only 25
minutes.
I
thought I was
doing OK, and I
was feeling sharp.
Then the ball goes
out of play and up
goes my number. It
was all I could do
not to let my
gaffer have it.
I’m
currently playing
in Holland for a
top-division side,
following a highly
successful period
on loan with a
crack second
division outfit.
In fact, things
went so well when
I was on loan that
not only was I top
scorer but I was
also named player
of the year in
that
division.
I
feel I deserve
some respect. If
things don’t
change soon on the
international
front, I think I
may cash in me
chips and declare
meself unavailable
from now on. I
just know I would
have scored if I
hadn't been
substitutes -
after all, a few
years ago I got a
hat trick against
Liechenstein.
I
love being
involved with the
lads, but no-one
likes to be
humiliated. Is it
because I’m
small?
Please
advise me Gaffer,
D
Connolly.
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David's humiliation...
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Gaffer replies...
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Wotcha
Dave!
I fully
understand your situation. I had a
very similar scenario in Vanuatu
when we had to play two matches in a
week in the South Sea Islands Cup in
1983.
I had a
limited squad and our top striker
Jimmy Tottenmuah got himself injured
in a late night, rum-fuelled coconut
picking accident. You see, we'd had
a few drinks down at the beach one
evening after training. Jimmy bet us
that he could get to a particular
nut high up in a tree. Full of
beans, he went for it, but slipped
and ended up with his head planted
firmly in the sand. It wasn’t
until a day before the game that we
realised that Jimmy wasn’t still
drunk but was suffering from serious
concussion. You can’t tell with
footballers a lot of the time.
Gambling and footballers just don’t
mix.
Anyway, I had
to call on reserve striker Wally “The
Mole” Wallembuah. Five foot nuthin’,
he was game as a pebble, but twice a
thick. Nice lad though. His missus
used to help me old ball and chain
around the house. In fact, Wally
used to do a bit of work in me
garden to earn some extra readies.
Anyway,
against the Pitcairn Islands, Wally
showed up well. I was real pleased
with the result. However, come the
next game against Kiribati, a
ding-dong battle as I remember it,
Wally is having a stinker. We are
two down and we need a bit of height
up front. At this stage I decided to
give Jimmy a run - he seemed to have
got most of his memory back.
However, he was still disorientated.
Not that it mattered - his
nonsensical running badly upset the
Kiribati back four, and although we
had to redirect him onto the pitch a
few times, he bagged three himself
by accident. Well, Wally is not
pleased, and tells the local press
that he’s not playing for us
anymore. Not never.
So it's
two years later, and we're having a
bit of a crisis with injuries. I
meet Wally one day and beg him to
come back. He’s a bit down on his
luck, so I throw in a little
sweetner by telling him he can use
my new tractor mower round our
garden for a little extra cash.
Wally
agrees and says he’ll help out.
The day before the game, tragedy
struck. Wally came to do the lawns
and I let him at it, as I went off
for a bit of a kip. Two hours later
and her indoors comes running in a
terrible flap - Wally has had an
accident. Seemingly, while trying a
particularly tricky manoeuvre, the
blasted thing turns over, bursts
into flames and well, that was it
for Wally. Only his watch and
fillings were left.
So you see,
you should never say never. You
never know what lies around the
corner. Stick with it son, stick
with it.
By the way, I’ve
had word from my old mate Vitautis
in Finland that My Paa have been
running the rule over you. You see,
things aren’t all bad.
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Gaffer's advice? Then send
your
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Click here for more from the Gaffer. |
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THE
GAFFER SETS AN
AMATEUR MANAGER
STRAIGHT
Dear
Gaffer,
I
am the manager of
a team of work
mates. I say
mates, but I have
found them to be
unmotivated and
ignorant to my
training methods
and results have
compounded my
theory.
Recently
I held a trial for
this team and only
2 of my original
members where
chosen to remain.
This has caused
some consternation
and I can feel the
"rejects"
resentment towards
me.
I
realise I was
probably too harsh
in my assessment
of their abilities
but it needed to
be done. Now I
have a team of
dedicated honest
but most of all
talented
players.
But
still I feel I am
missing out on
something! How do
I bring my mates
back into the fold
without upsetting
the apple
cart?
How
do I explain their
presence at
sessions to my new
squad? what if a schism
erupts?
Please
advise me gaffer.
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The
Gaffer replies...
Right son,
You've got serious problem here. Do
you want to be a winner or do you want to have friends? This is
the problem.
In fact, if you don't decide which
you fancy, then you are the problem. Let me tell you a little
story.
When I worked in Laos, there were
an number of lads I'd seen progressing through the Under 21s all
the way up to the full squad. Great lads they were. I used to have
a few drinks with them after hours so to speak.
However, for some reason the
lads started to lose their focus and their drive. Results that
year in the Asian qualifiers were not good. This was the year,
stories from which were well documented at in the tabloids at the
time, when the missus up and left me with the club chef.
Rotten cow.
That's when I hit the booze big
time. Lost me focus too, I did. Lots of times in fact. I got
lonely. You know how it is. Foreign country, successful man,
plenty of offers. No matter what the papers say - I was sure those
ladies were of age. (Know what I mean, Rixie?)
Anyway, I made some mistakes, and
they started to carry over to team affairs. These lads stood by
me, but I could not see that they were just not good enuff for
Asian international XI. A 10-1 spanking from the North Koreans
brought things to a head.
The Laos FA, Nyk Il Sun, laid it on
the line. I'd find no answers in the bottom of those glasses, he
said, and the FA needed answers.
The next game, I gave the lads and
the booze the boot. Sure they were me mates, but they could not
cut the mustard. No point being a Roy Evans about it and letting
the lads walk all over you. Give them the boot. Nothing personal,
you know. In this game, if yer not a winner, then you are a
loser.
Are you a loser?.
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