CHAPTER 30
CHAOS REIGNS AT LADY MACBETH PARK
LIU LIES JETTISON DEAL
DRESSING ROOM DRESSING DOWN FOR SACKED DUO
These were just a few of the headlines as the news broke on Friday afternoon.
I rushed together a haphazard statement, acknowledging the anger of the supporters and asking them to look at the development of the youth team and the work on the new stand as signs of my commitment to the long term future of Broxburgh FC, and inviting them to stand alongside me at this challenging time of the season as the club parted company with the caretaker duo of Kyle Guernsey and Drew Heseltine.
Conspiracy theories were rife on social media, from a failed publicity stunt to this pointing to a return for Joe McDonald – both to the club and my bed. All blame for the dilemma fell at my feet. I couldn't find anybody pointing fingers at the management team.
Immediate questions were asked about who would replace them and when, with the club facing an away match the next day.
That was where I'd my work full, all too aware the potential in-house short-term replacements, the youth coach and the goalkeeping coach, were away in England on unrelated business.
Emergency calls to Mr Browne and Mr Kirk fell on deaf ears, as both indicated they'd be unable to return in time.
As afternoon turned to evening, I soon discovered I'd no friends left in the football world to call on for help and we faced the very real prospect of completing the run-in without a manager.
I headed home, feeling dejected again, and stared down at the single option left.
The one no one would see coming.
The team arrived at the recently renamed MGM Timber Bayview Stadium for the match with East Fife on Saturday afternoon.
With the club appearing in disarray, I was thankful to be away from home in front of only 13 travelling fans. I signed a scarf for a young fan as I led the team off the coach, while a dozen more Broxburgh fans sang Kyle's name behind her and booed me as I walked away.
I pinned the starting line-up on the dressing room wall.
GK McQuillan
RB Robertson
LB Graham
CB McKay (Capt)
CB Crawford
CM Martin
CM Black
RW Adams
LW Williamson
AM/F Donaldson
ST Wilkesboro
“Ms Liu,” Blair started, stood leaning over me, “you can't do this, it's crazy.”
“I have to,” I insisted.
“It's my duty to warn you the league'll fine the club if you do.”
“I'm already doing it, Blair.”
“You can't take charge without the necessary coaching badges.”
“What other choice do I have, Blair?” I asked, glancing to DeShaun sat in his kit.
He said nothing and looked away.
“Stay by my side, Blair. I need you to at least look like you have my back.”
He nodded, then whistled for everyone's attention.
Dressed in a straight leg, tie-waist business jumpsuit and long jacket – previously worn by Joe McDonald when he was in charge – with the club crest and manager's logo on it, I unfolded my arms and prepared to address the team.
“Guys,” I started, “I can't begin to describe my gratitude towards every one of you today.
What happened yesterday was a shock to you all.
That was then, and this is now. We need three points, and I know you're capable of getting them.
It won't be easy. East Fife reckon we're there for the taking.
So, you're going to be playing with heart as much as head.”
The first XI and the subs I'd named stared back at me, as if in disbelief.
“I'll be on the touchline, I'll do my best.” I gestured to Blair.
“But your captain is your leader out there.
Each of you has made a fantastic contribution to the squad this year.
We're two points off our rivals going into this match, that's a very real position to take charge of our destiny and put ourselves in the play-offs.
I want that for all of you. You've been through thick and thin this year. More so than any club should ever ask of its players.”
16-year-old Ricky McQuillan padded his gloves together.
“But I ask you today to go out there and show the opposition you guys play for the badge.”
“Hear, hear!” said Leo Martin.
“That's right,” I said, pointing to him. “That's the spirit I'm talking about.”
“Let's go,” Blair said.
The players rose to their feet.
I started to clap. “We can do this, guys. Let's fucking do this!”
My players cheered in response, before Blair and I led them out for kick-off in front of a crowd of 750.
I felt our season was far from over, yet I knew it could all come crashing down without a win today.
That coach trip back to Broxburgh after could yet be our bleakest so far.
I felt my little legs tremble as we took the kick-off, Wilkesboro playing a defensive pass wide to the left to Fergus Graham.
Graham was late to the ball and it was intercepted by East Fife's winger, who rocketed past Graham.
The mood of the home crowd lifted, as their forwards surged forward.
Blair barked at those around him to hold formation, yet his fellow centre-half Graeme Crawford saw an opportunity to chase down the winger.
The winger nutmegged the ball through the legs of Crawford and into the path of an East Fife striker, who struck the ball hard at goal.
Ricky McQuillan was at full stretch to stop it, but he could only palm it away into the paths of McKay and a second East Fife forward.
The home team's player met it first with the side of his boot as McKay slid in to make the tackle.
The ball thudded behind McQuillan into the back of the net.
East Fife led a goal to nil in the first minute.
I looked down, my hand already covering my mouth.
The home fans were cheering and I sensed the wrath of those few Broxburgh fans in the away end.
I clapped my hands together and tried to gee up my players.
Wilkesboro took the restart, passing the ball back to Martin in midfield.
The next few minutes were quiet, with possession shared between the sides until an East Fife midfielder spotted McQuillan off his line and tried an ambitious lob, launching the ball inches over the crossbar.
I clapped again, and tried to encourage Wilkesboro and Euan Donaldson to press East Fife deeper.
Neither seemed convinced I knew what I was doing, but at least Donaldson showed signs of listening and made a run off the ball minutes later.
Lachlan Williamson played a quick one-two with Wilkesboro, then fed the ball into Donaldson's path.
An East Fife defender cut him down with a blatant foul outside the box and Wilkesboro went straight for him, shoving him.
The defender shoved him back, and Wilkesboro dared lean his forehead against the opposition man. Both players received yellow cards.
But the free-kick was ours.
“DeShaun, calm down!” I called.
He held his lower back, leaning backwards, and said nothing.
Blair spoke to him.
The ref placed the ball.
Wilkesboro stepped up to take the free-kick, sizing the width of the wall, then sent his shot wide of the post.
Blake Black started our next attack on the 20 minute mark, as Rory Adams made a darting run down the wing.
Black sprayed the ball wide to Adams. Adams cut inside the East Fife full-back and lashed the ball across goal into the path of Wilkesboro, who slid in to to meet it with his boot and send it over the bar.
East Fife's manager made a change of formation, having one forward drop back into midfield.
I watched in anguish as the shape altered the game, giving more possession to the home side and frustrating our creativity.
Thirty minutes passed. We hadn't come close to threatening their goal again.
I needed someone to help, but I was stood all alone on the touchline. I looked to my substitutes and tried to think of someone who could make a difference. There was a third forward, Stephen MacKenzie, but who could I sacrifice to make way for him? And at what cost?
East Fife won a corner while I mismanaged my team.
The ball was an in-swinger, met by the graze of McKay's head.
It lifted the ball over almost everyone else and into the path of an East Fife player, who cracked a left-footed shot through the crowd towards goal, ricocheting off someone's leg and into the post. McQuillan smothered the ball. It was still 1-0.
I tried to make eye contact with McKay, as if somehow he'd be able to assist me on the sides, but he was too busy captaining the team on the pitch.
Donaldson and Wilkesboro linked up in the middle, with 5 minutes to go, exchanging the ball, drawing defenders, before Donaldson saw Murray Robertson overlap Adams on the right wing and played the ball out to the full-back.
The forwards tried to beat their markers before he whipped it right back in, falling in front of Wilkesboro.
He booted the ball at goal, but his shot soared wide again.
2 minutes of injury time were indicated.
East Fife were happy to punt the ball deep into our half.
Robertson picked up possession, playing the ball back to McQuillan as the rest of our team pressed the home team into their own half.
McQuillan miskicked the ball, clipping one side of it and sending it sprawling back to his own net.
He dived in, stretching to get his fingertips onto it and pushing it onto the post. He leapt quickly across and got his whole body around it.
My nerves were shattered as the ref blew for half-time.
“Blair,” I started, walking alongside him towards the dressing room, “any thoughts on making a change?”
He shook his head. “But I don't have any coaching experience.”
I dropped back until I was next to DeShaun. “What's going on with you out there?”
“What?” he snapped.
Leo Martin in front glanced over his shoulder.
“Don't make this about us, DeShaun,” I said firmly. “Your finishing's been poor. I want to know why-”
“There is no us,” he interrupted, and jogged ahead.
I watched him, worrying about his temperament and noting the yellow card he was already on.