Authors: A. D. Rogers
Strikers Instinct (2 page)
Fred and Jason Grimshaw looked around at the activity in the arena and a look of disgust passed between them. The game had only finished 30 minutes ago and already their precious turf was being invaded.
Jason looked at his father and spoke. “I can't believe that after all our hard work, he is still going through with this.”
Fred snorted in reply, “I can't believe that you are letting him get away with it! You should have made him listen to you.”
“He won't listen to anybody.” said Jason quietly.
Their gloom deepened as more heavy equipment began to pour onto the pitch and slowly the grass began to disappear beneath a carpet of wood and plastic. It was often said by friends and family that Jason and Fred didn't just have green fingers â they were like a mad horticultural, King Midas hybrid â everything they touched grew and flourished. Apparently it was in their genes. Fred's father had looked after bowling greens and various other playing surfaces all his life and he had passed everything he knew onto his son. Fred then worked all over Lancashire before settling as head groundsman at Wishton Clough FC many years ago. In fact he wasn't just head groundsman â he was the only person they could afford to pay to look after the pitch â which suited him fine. He loved being his own boss and the additional bonus was that he didn't have to worry about other staff. He did however, need help from time to time and that was where Jason came in. It was obvious from a very young age that Jason had inherited his share of the Grimshaw gardening magic. Every spare moment was spent working with his father on the Wishton pitch. No one was surprised when he decided to go to agricultural college, it seemed a natural path to follow.
The ground wasn't the biggest or most handsome in the football league. In fact, even many of the home supporters fondly thought it was a bit of a dump but everyone agreed that it had the best playing surface for miles around. It was a pity that the quality of football generally seen most weeks didn't measure up to the pitch. Wishton spent many years languishing in the bottom reaches of the Football League â a couple of times they had narrow escapes, just beating the drop to the conference.
However, about five years ago things suddenly changed. An offer was made by a local businessman to purchase the club. The current owners had embarrassed everyone with the speed in which they accepted the offer. One of the biggest talking points was that part of the deal included a new multi-purpose stadium a mile away from the current ground. As soon as that was announced, Fred decided it was time for him to retire. He had no regrets but realised that a new surface for a new era had to be created and maintained by someone else.
However, the new owner had other ideas. He knew how knowledgeable Fred was and he also heard that Jason had just graduated from college. The new Chairman approached Fred with a proposal. If he agreed to work at the new stadium â in an unofficial capacity, the position of Head Groundsman would be offered to Jason. It was an offer that neither Jason of Fred could refuse. Jason brought his new found experience with the latest technology and Fred contributed with years of practical experience and knowledge. It was the perfect partnership. Other, more cynical observers, also claimed it was a great deal for the new owner â he had two members of staff for the price of one. However, the Chairman did agree to eventually take on an apprentice â mainly to help with the heavier work.
Jason and Fred split their time between the old ground and the new stadium. They had to keep the old ground going for at least a couple of seasons whilst the new stadium was being built and then they had to prepare the new stadium for a more modern pitch than Fred was used to dealing with.
They worked with the installation team to ensure that the perfect surface was laid and maintained. Jason already understood the techniques involved in dealing with under soil heating, sprinklers and heat lamps but it was a brave new world to his father. Fortunately, the installation and subsequent bedding in period went well and everyone was happy with the result.
Today had been the final game of the first full season on the pitch and Jason and Fred were looking forward to giving the surface a rest and some much-needed maintenance. Unfortunately the Chairman had other ideas. He planned a series of concerts to take place in the ground in the first two weeks following the end of the season. This would mean that the pitch would need to be covered over and protected. Jason and Fred were outraged but the chairman brushed aside their protests. He had taken professional advice and had been told that as long as the pitch wasn't covered for too long and then it had at least a month to recover then there would be no problems.
The club would make more money from this series of concerts than it had taken in gate receipts from the football supporters all season â this type of event was considered crucial to the club's future.
Now the final game of the season was over and the work to prepare the stadium for the concerts had begun. Jason and Fred stood in the middle of a hive of activity and watched in growing alarm as their beloved turf slowly disappeared from sight. Angrily they both turned to look up at the directors lounge, high in the stand. “I hope he knows what he is doing.” muttered Jason. His dad shrugged his shoulders. “We've done our best, it's in the lap of the gods now but I can't wait to see his face in two weeks when they pull these covers back.”
High up in the stand the Chairman looked down upon the two small figures staring up at him and smiled to himself. “Two old women worrying about nothing.” he muttered to no one in particular. Then he grinned and turned away. Ed Tierney was in a good mood and he wasn't about to let two merchants of doom spoil his day. The first season in the new stadium had gone well and now he had the added bonus of potentially making a lot of money in the next few weeks.
Five years ago he had taken over the impoverished Wishton Clough who had been languishing in the depths of League 2. He wasn't particularly a football fan but Wishton were his home town club and more importantly he saw an amazing opportunity to make a great deal of money. Ed was already a wealthy man but he realised that by mainly using funds from other people he could build something big in Wishton.
His takeover bid had been eagerly accepted and he immediately put plans in place to move to a new ground. The local council fell over themselves trying to help â Wishton was a small, struggling town in mid-Lancashire and they would grab at any lifeline they could. Planning permission was quickly granted and using a combination of EU grants, Central Government re-generation funds and small amount of private money, Ed managed to build the new ground in record time on a local Brownfield site â a former abattoir.
One of Ed's biggest strengths was that he wasn't too proud or stupid to try to take on something he knew nothing about. When it came to the actual football side of the venture he sounded out the opinion of many experts in the game. One name kept popping up during his conversations and subsequently he approached Sandy Dunbar to be his new team manager. Sandy was a perfect fit for Ed. He had done it all in the game â at both playing and managerial level â and was well-respected. He had been in semi-retirement for a few years because he had promised to spend some quality time with his grandkids but the rumours were that he was getting bored and needed one last challenge. Luckily for Ed, Sandy lived only a 20 minute drive from Wishton so it was relatively easy for Sandy to be persuaded to make a comeback â much to the disgust of his wife.
The rebirth of Wishton Clough had begun. As the new stadium began to take place, the new team grew at the same pace. For a surprisingly small amount of money, Sandy had managed to put together a squad that had steadily climbed through the divisions until they reached the championship â the highest level Wishton had ever played at.
The 2013-2014 season had begun with a bang â literally. The first game in the new ground coincided with the first home game in the Championship and Ed pulled out all the stops to make it an occasion to remember. Fireworks, parachutists and a rock band were some of the main attractions.
After a few minor hiccups during the year, the new stadium had proved to be a great success â such a success that football now formed only a small part of the revenue stream. Conferences, weddings and concerts meant that the stadium was in use on an almost daily basis â there was even a pub built into one corner of the ground.
On the pitch it had been a season of consolidation, culminating in a mid-table finish â which made Ed very happy. He didn't want a relegation battle but neither did he want to be involved in a struggle to reach the Premier League just yet â that was something he would be ready to look at next season.
With that thought in mind he turned back into the room and looked across at his guests. The small executive lounge had quickly emptied but there were still three figures sat around his private table.
“Well, that's that for another season,” Ed announced, “now perhaps we can relax and chat about other things?”
“What kind of other things?” asked Luke Linden with a smile. Ed smiled back, “Well Luke, I need to know what it will take to get your wife to come and work with me?”
Sue Linden began to laugh softly. “You are nothing if not persistent Ed.” she said. Then the third member of the group spoke.
“Come on Ed, it's been a great day, let's not ruin it by talking business.”
“Don't worry Harry,” insisted Ed, “there'll be no pressure, I just want Sue to get an idea of what we are trying to do here.”
Dr. Harry Green laughed. “I think you are wasting your time Ed, Luke would never allow his wife to work for such a rampant capitalist as yourself!”
The three men laughed but Sue just grinned ruefully. “It's a good job you are an old friend Harry or Luke and I would both be upset by that remark. Just for the record I would like to point out that my husband will support me in whatever I choose to do â within reason! I would also like to point out that Luke's days of class warfare have been over for many years â isn't that so dear?”
Luke smiled. “Well my darling,” he said in an affected accent, “the struggle will always go on but I'm a lot more selective in my battles these days. Ed seems to be a perfectly acceptable fat cat â so for the moment at least I am more than willing to hear him out!”
Sue noticed the mischievous glint in her husband's eyes and flashed him an unspoken warning but the comments didn't seem to bother Ed â he laughed as loudly as Harry.
Dr. Harry Green was one of Ed most trusted advisors and it was he who suggested that Ed invite the Linden family to the private box to watch the game. Luke had been a Wishton Clough supporter all his life and now his two children were following in his footsteps. The children had left the box after the game to have a private tour of the ground and to hopefully meet some of the players. Harry had pointed out that if Ed managed to get the rest of the family on his side then it may be easier to get Sue to come and work with them.
Ed paused for a moment to seemingly gather his thoughts before he spoke again. “Sue, please don't be offended but I think it may be better if I assume that you don't know anything about our organisation and then I can tell you everything from the beginning?”
Sue smiled back. “I think you would be disappointed if I hadn't done a small amount of fact-finding before we arrived? Harry persuaded us to come along today â the rest of the family were very enthusiastic and I was curious â and so far it's been a great day. So please continue Ed, I'm intrigued to hear whatever you may have to tell us. Just one small request please before we begin?”
“Of course,” said Ed eagerly, “just say the word.”
“I seem to be empty â could someone pour me another glass of this lovely wine please?”
Ed laughed and replenished all the glasses. “If only everything in life were so simple.” he sighed.
Once again he paused as if wondering where to begin and then he started to speak.
“I suppose all this began with my great-grandfather. He was a chemist working in Manchester but he had big ambitions. He had little or no money but through sheer hard work managed to scrape enough cash together to rent a small shop on the outskirts of the city. His young family lived above the shop. Great grandad began to make a passable living but he wanted more for his family. He began to look at homeopathic remedies and other natural types of medication â he was sure that somehow that could be the key to his fortune but he remained disappointed.
After a few years his wife persuaded him to take a short holiday. Money was still fairly tight but the family had friends who owned a farm not too far from Wishton so they managed to get away for a week in the country. The fresh air seemed to re-invigorate him and each day he would go for a long walk â mainly to give him time to dream up new ways to make his fortune.
One day he walked further than usual, right up to the outskirts of Wishton and just as he was about to turn back he spotted a small shop for sale. It seemed to be in a perfect spot â on a main road but also on the edge of beautiful countryside. Later that evening he mentioned the shop to his friend the farmer, who told him that for many years it had belonged to the same family of greengrocers. The last of the family was an old man who had died recently, he had run the shop alone right up to his death and the executors of his will wanted to get rid of what they saw as a millstone around their necks.
It seemed that the amenities were fairly basic, the shop even had to take water from a spring in the garden â they weren't connected to a mains supply. Apparently my great grandfather's ears pricked up when he heard this. He became even more interested when he heard that the greengrocer had actually bottled the water and tried to pass it off in the shop as some sort of medicinal tonic.
First thing in the morning great grandad contacted the estate agent and made an appointment to view the property the same day. He hardly looked at the shop and living quarters â he seemed to be only interested in the spring. Without consulting his wife he agreed to buy the property and within a few hectic weeks he managed to relocate his family and business from Manchester to Wishton.
Within a short space of time the shop was ticking over nicely but great grandad was spending every spare hour working on his latest get-rich-quick scheme. He mixed the spring water with various natural ingredients and used his family as guinea pigs to test the different batches. One particular batch seemed more popular than the others, it was heavily laced with liquorice and all the family agreed it tasted fairly pleasant. Great grandad wrote down the recipe and put his first batch up for sale in the shop. He marketed it as “Tierney's Tonic” â the elixir of life. He then sat back and waited for the money to roll in”
At this point Sue broke into the story. “I'm sorry to interrupt you but is this the point where your family suddenly becomes fabulously rich?”
“No,” said Ed with a wry smile, “this is the point where the tonic becomes yet another failure! Actually, that's not fair, it wasn't a total flop, great grandad had quite a few regulars who bought a bottle every week but the numbers were quite small â hardly enough to justify keeping the operation going.
The next few years went by and great grandad still hadn't made his fortune but he still refused to give in. In addition to the tonic he developed other pills and potions which proved to be equally unsuccessful. Then came the biggest stroke of luck of his life.
Great grandad had two children, the eldest a boy named Francis â who obviously was my grandfather. Francis had thrived in the countryside around the shop and had turned into a very athletic boy. At the age of seventeen he had become something of an all-rounder, playing cricket in the summer and football in the winter. He proved to be such an outstanding football player that several Football League clubs wanted to sign him but he decided â quite wisely I think â that he was going to university. Football was not a very profitable career in those days. He did however, sign for Wishton Clough as an amateur. In those days Wishton played in the Lancashire Combination and were quite a successful little team. They were attached to the local colliery and the players were a mixture of pitmen and locals.
Francis's first season at the club coincided with an amazing run of results. For some reason Francis and his older teammates seemed unbeatable. They even had a great run in the FA Cup, moving through the qualifying rounds with ease â until they stood on the brink of glory. They somehow managed to get through to the third round proper for the first time in the club's history. The whole town clustered around their wireless sets on Monday lunchtime to listen who they would draw in the next round.
When the draw was announced they couldn't believe it â they were to face First division Bolton Wanderers at Burnden Park! Bolton were a professional side filled with international players, no-one outside Wishton gave the underdogs a chance. It seemed however that the footballing gods had other ideas. The day of the match was wet and windy â almost blowing a gale. The surface was slippery in patches, bog-like in others. In those days it took more than a bit of wind and rain to postpone a game and the match kicked off as scheduled. It soon became clear that this was never going to be a classic. Both sides struggled to cope with the surface and with the gusting wind.
The longer the game went on the worse the conditions became and both players and spectators alike were looking forward to the final whistle. With ten minutes to go Bolton realised that they were on the verge of an embarrassing draw and they re-doubled their efforts, throwing everyone forward in a desperate bid to claim a winner. Unfortunately for them their centre half slipped in the centre circle, just as he was going to thump the ball upfield to his waiting teammates.
The closest Wishton player to the ball was my grandad and as he quickly looked around he realised there was no-one between him and the Bolton goal â apart from the goalkeeper. Grandad put his head down and set off with the ball at his feet, dancing through the puddles and trying to avoid the boggy patches. The goalkeeper advanced right to the edge of his area â grandad didn't hesitate, he pushed the ball to the keeper's right and he ran around him to the left. He still couldn't trust the ball not to stick in the mud so he continued to run right into the back of the net to make sure he didn't miss!
The small group of Clough fans went wild and neutrals listening around the country on the radio were equally excited. Bolton restarted the game and threw everything they had at the Wishton defence but it was to no avail, they clung on and the final whistle went. The footballing world was stunned, an amateur side had defeated a first division team of professionals in the biggest cup competition in the world.
However, the best was still to come. Everyone wanted to speak to my grandad and although he was probably more excited than he had ever been in his life, he was also a very shrewd young man. The newspaper reporters and radio interviewers all asked him what he put his success down to and he replied with the same answer every time. “All credit has to go to my teammates and manager, they are the real heroes here but I also have to give a big thanks to my father, I drink Tierney's Tonic every morning and it has made me the man I am today.”
The next day the papers were full of the story and the telephone in the small shop began to ring and it didn't seem to stop for days. Everyone wanted to know how they could get their hands on a bottle of Tonic and this is where once again my grandad proved to be mature beyond his years. He advised his father only to agree to sell to shops who were willing to sign up for long-term agreements. This proved to be a very wise decision because soon they had to buy up adjoining buildings to the chemists shop in order to implement a small production line.
Great grandad was happy at last. He had wanted to make his fortune but it seemed that being recognised as an innovator made him happier than being wealthy!”
“What about Francis?” Luke broke into the story, “Sorry to interrupt you Ed but I have been a Wishton fan all my life and I didn't know the background to this story.”
“Good question Luke,” replied Ed, “however, I must apologise, I seem to have gone on with the first part of the story for longer than I intended, the children will be back soon. Let's refill the glasses and then I can quickly bring us up to more modern times.”