Cod Almighty | Article

by Mat Hare

6 January 2004

I know this is late - really late, if truth be told - but I do have an excuse. Actually it's more of a reason than an excuse. Or several reasons, even. I am fully aware that I haven't told you what happened in November and that you don't have a clue what went on in December either but I am going to remedy that here and now.

At the start of December I honestly meant to update you on the letters I wrote and the replies I received during the previous month but I, er, didn't. I'm putting this down to the fact that it was my birthday and I spent a lot of the start of December drunk. When I sobered up we were into the Christmas party season and I had several of those to attend so there was rarely a time I was sober enough to update you on my progress. And during December my real search for a real job, as opposed to this half-arsed experiment, turned up an interview opportunity so I had that occupying my time and mind. But December and Christmas are out of the way now and I can concentrate in this new year on bringing you lovely folk up to speed with my quest for a job in football.

As you may recall from October's update (and if you do then you are better at this than me because I had to go online to reread it and find out what happened) I sent out six letters and got four replies. Surely as this update covers a period twice as long as that one, I must be able to beat both of those tallies. You'd think that, wouldn't you? As a matter of fact I sent out seven application letters to football clubs before the end of 2003.

The first chairman to receive one of my 'giz-a-job' missives was Geoffrey King of Southend United, who had just parted company with Steve Wignall. I informed Mr King that I was capable of propelling his club to a mid-table finish this season and possibly promotion next. He obviously thought I was taking the piss as he decided to ignore my letter.

Perhaps I would fare better at a bigger club. Maybe I'm too good for the likes of Southend. I set my sights a little higher as soon as I heard that Steve Kember had vacated the hotseat at Selhurst Park. Off went the letter to the renowned miserable sod who is chairman of Crystal Palace Football Club, Simon Jordan. I praised the size of his club and promised that despite the shocking start to the season I could guide them back to the big time. I refrained from mentioning I just wanted to manage them so I could boss Danny Butterfield about and make him pay for those times he was shit for Town. To be fair to Mr Jordan, I did get a response to my letter, albeit not from him but from the club's human resources officer, a swift response too.

Was I wasting my time poncing about down south? Perhaps I should try my luck at a big northern club instead. Nicky Law proved he was sodding useless so Gordon Gibb - chairman of Bradford City and owner of Flamingo Land and Pleasure Island, apparently - gave him the boot and me the opportunity to pester the theme park magnate. Once more I was quick to praise the club, opting to concentrate my efforts on promising a return to the glory days the club had once enjoyed and so obviously deserved. Utter bollocks, of course, but it was enough to prompt a response from the Yorkshire giants. It was brief and to the point but it was a reply, from the managing director no less. In the end they appointed Bryan Robson and I am pleased to announce that they are still shit.

Was I on to something here? Was Yorkshire the way forward? Has anyone ever really thought that Yorkshire could really be the way forward? Anyway, I decided that if Bradford don't want me then I will try their underachieving Yorkshire cousins, Leeds United, who had given Peter Reid the boot a while before I got my letter sent but had appointed Eddie Gray as a sort of caretaker-who-we'd-really-like-to-take-the-job-because-he's-cheap-but-he-hasn't-got-the-necessary-qualifications manager. Hey, that sort of job would suit me down to the ground, so I applied.

It seemed odd writing to a professor, but then to me it seems odd that one should be chairman of a football club. Again it was a promise to relive the past and bring back the good times to the club but here I made special mention that I would do it within the constraints of their deep financial shit. If that doesn't get me at least an interview, I thought, then nothing will. And I was right - I doubt anything would have got me an interview. But I did get a reply, my third so far. It wasn't from the prof but the headed notepaper said it was from his office. The letter had Trevor Birch's (the chief executive) name at the bottom though the letter was signed on his behalf by another member of staff. But it had come from the chairman's office, so had Trev broken in and written the letter on the prof's laptop but not had the balls to sign the letter, or was it just printed on any old paper they could find? I suppose when times are hard you have to make do. Anyway, this wasn't a rejection as such, more a "we'll let you know", pretty much the same as the one I got from Spurs. Maybe that's the way these Premiership clubs do business.

From Yorkshire I turned my attentions to the north-west, where two vacancies had recently arisen. The first of these came about because Simon Jordan rather preferred the managerial talents of Iain Dowie, the then Oldham Athletic boss, to mine and so poached the ugly bugger away from the Latics. Would Barry Chaytow, the Oldham chairman, feel the same as Mr Jordan? I decided to ask him in a letter that once more promised a return to the former glories the club had once enjoyed. They were in the Premiership once, you know. I made it clear that before we could do that I would have to steer the club out of a very tough division.

The second role I applied for in the area was Andy Preece's old job, as he had just left Bury. Try as I might, I was unable to unearth the Bury chairman's name so I am afraid my letter to him was just addressed to "Chairman". To make up for not knowing his name I promised that if I were appointed I would build on the start Bury had made to the current campaign and probably get them promoted via the play-offs this season. It obviously didn't work, as neither the unknown chairman or Bazza have replied to me as yet.

Six down, one more letter to tell you about. Another foreign club this time, Partick Thistle, the very poor neighbours to the Old Firm. Of course Tom Hughes, the chairman, knows this and I'm sure he feels bad about it but the club are struggling in the shadow of the big two and he has to be realistic about all of this. That's probably why thus far he has ignored my letter telling him I could preserve their Premier League status and build the club up to such a degree that we could, in time, rival Rangers and Celtic. I suspect he might have thought I was being a tad overambitious.

So there are the seven letters I sent out this time and I've also covered the three replies I received. Not as good as the four I had to tell you about last time but, to be truthful, most of the letters were sent out with the Christmas post and it takes football club chairmen a bit of time to consider how good I really am.

That's not quite the end of this update, though; there were a few opportunities that passed me by this month while my arse was most definitely out of gear. Northwich Victoria wasted no time in sacking the fella they put in place only a couple of months back in favour of Shaun Teale. In fact they didn't even waste enough time for me to change the date on the last letter I sent them and send it again.

I also missed two jobs that were going north of the border. St Mirren, who I thought it would be cool to manage because of their kit, gave Gus McPherson a job before I had chance to apply. Over at Albion Rovers it was a resignation not a sacking that opened up the vacancy at the top. Peter Hetherston decided he should quit after telling the country's first female referee that she should be at home making dinner. The club moved swiftly to appoint Kevin "Crunchie" McAllister. I can only assume that Stranraer were unwilling to part with Ian "Kit Kat" McTavish.