It would also mean you were a dead fly!Impeccable said:in that boot room in the sky...
With the likes of Big Mal, Joe Mercer, Sir Matt, Shanks, Cloughie and Bobby Robson.
That would be some team talk!!!!!!!!
Lucky Toma said:You are a callow 17 year old kid who has barely featured for the reserves thus far.
You turn up for an important home game only to be informed by Clough half an hour before kick-off that you’re playing.
As if reading your mind he then states ‘Young man, your father was told last night. He’s got a bloody good seat in the main stand. Now take your hands out of your pockets and do him proud’.
You sit alone on a bench in the changing room, intimidated by the big-name players around you.
Shankley approaches.
‘Ya nervous sonny?
You nod nervously.
‘I don’t see why. There will be forty thousand men, women and children out there kicking every ball with you. You’ll tackle with the strength of the multitudes. Shoot with the power of the working man. A man who has forty thousand people on his side shouldn’t be nervous. He is invincible.’
Big Mal sits beside you holding a piece of paper. You try not to cough as the fug of cigar smoke hits your nostrils.
He explains what is expected of you today. The tactics are complicated and far more sophisticated than what you’re used to but he explains them in such a way that you easily understand. He draws a simple diagram to confirm your main duties then tells you about the centre-half who will be marking you, an in-depth deconstruction of his weaknesses that both fills you with confidence and amazes you with how the hell he knows all this stuff.
‘He doesn’t trust his left peg so will look to the keeper if the ball’s on his left side. Look to intercept the back-pass. Strong in the air but if you get physical early he goes into his shell. He picked up a groin strain a couple of weeks back and is still feeling it so make him turn as much as possible......’
‘He’s useless. Can’t pass. Can’t run. Past it’ Shankley chimes in.
Big Mal grins beneath his fedora. You grin too.
As you are putting on your top you pause for a second and look down at the badge.
Busby notices and with an avuncular smile says ‘Do it proud today son. Express yourself out there’.
The noisy clack of studs on concrete as the players depart the changing room. You are the last to leave.
At the door Joe Mercer stops you with a gentle palm. He looks you in the eye, studies you for a moment, then nods and smiles warmly.
You would wall through walls.
Lucky Toma said:You are a callow 17 year old kid who has barely featured for the reserves thus far.
You turn up for an important home game only to be informed by Clough half an hour before kick-off that you’re playing.
As if reading your mind he then states ‘Young man, your father was told last night. He’s got a bloody good seat in the main stand. Now take your hands out of your pockets and do him proud’.
You sit alone on a bench in the changing room, intimidated by the big-name players around you.
Shankley approaches.
‘Ya nervous sonny?
You nod nervously.
‘I don’t see why. There will be forty thousand men, women and children out there kicking every ball with you. You’ll tackle with the strength of the multitudes. Shoot with the power of the working man. A man who has forty thousand people on his side shouldn’t be nervous. He is invincible.’
Big Mal sits beside you holding a piece of paper. You try not to cough as the fug of cigar smoke hits your nostrils.
He explains what is expected of you today. The tactics are complicated and far more sophisticated than what you’re used to but he explains them in such a way that you easily understand. He draws a simple diagram to confirm your main duties then tells you about the centre-half who will be marking you, an in-depth deconstruction of his weaknesses that both fills you with confidence and amazes you with how the hell he knows all this stuff.
‘He doesn’t trust his left peg so will look to the keeper if the ball’s on his left side. Look to intercept the back-pass. Strong in the air but if you get physical early he goes into his shell. He picked up a groin strain a couple of weeks back and is still feeling it so make him turn as much as possible......’
‘He’s useless. Can’t pass. Can’t run. Past it’ Shankley chimes in.
Big Mal grins beneath his fedora. You grin too.
As you are putting on your top you pause for a second and look down at the badge.
Busby notices and with an avuncular smile says ‘Do it proud today son. Express yourself out there’.
The noisy clack of studs on concrete as the players depart the changing room. You are the last to leave.
At the door Joe Mercer stops you with a gentle palm. He looks you in the eye, studies you for a moment, then nods and smiles warmly.
You would wall through walls.
Lucky Toma said:You are a callow 17 year old kid who has barely featured for the reserves thus far.
You turn up for an important home game only to be informed by Clough half an hour before kick-off that you’re playing.
As if reading your mind he then states ‘Young man, your father was told last night. He’s got a bloody good seat in the main stand. Now take your hands out of your pockets and do him proud’.
You sit alone on a bench in the changing room, intimidated by the big-name players around you.
Shankley approaches.
‘Ya nervous sonny?
You nod nervously.
‘I don’t see why. There will be forty thousand men, women and children out there kicking every ball with you. You’ll tackle with the strength of the multitudes. Shoot with the power of the working man. A man who has forty thousand people on his side shouldn’t be nervous. He is invincible.’
Big Mal sits beside you holding a piece of paper. You try not to cough as the fug of cigar smoke hits your nostrils.
He explains what is expected of you today. The tactics are complicated and far more sophisticated than what you’re used to but he explains them in such a way that you easily understand. He draws a simple diagram to confirm your main duties then tells you about the centre-half who will be marking you, an in-depth deconstruction of his weaknesses that both fills you with confidence and amazes you with how the hell he knows all this stuff.
‘He doesn’t trust his left peg so will look to the keeper if the ball’s on his left side. Look to intercept the back-pass. Strong in the air but if you get physical early he goes into his shell. He picked up a groin strain a couple of weeks back and is still feeling it so make him turn as much as possible......’
‘He’s useless. Can’t pass. Can’t run. Past it’ Shankley chimes in.
Big Mal grins beneath his fedora. You grin too.
As you are putting on your top you pause for a second and look down at the badge.
Busby notices and with an avuncular smile says ‘Do it proud today son. Express yourself out there’.
It is said with a combination of warmth and conviction. Your heart thuds as you suddenly realize this is not a dream, not the dream you've had all your life. This is real.
The team talk begins and is taken by Bobby. He paces every tile upon the floor, kicks imaginary footballs, briskly rubs his hands together at just the thought of the ninety minutes ahead.
His passion and enthausiasm are infectious and the room fizzes with energy.
‘What I wouldn’t give to be out there with you lads today. Playing the greatest game in the world. There’s nothing like it. Nothing comes close to this’
The noisy clack of studs on concrete as the players depart the changing room. You are the last to leave.
At the door Joe Mercer stops you with a gentle palm. He looks you in the eye, studies you for a moment, then nods and smiles warmly.
You would wall through walls.
Lucky Toma said:You are a callow 17 year old kid who has barely featured for the reserves thus far.
You turn up for an important home game only to be informed by Clough half an hour before kick-off that you’re playing.
As if reading your mind he then states ‘Young man, your father was told last night. He’s got a bloody good seat in the main stand. Now take your hands out of your pockets and do him proud’.
You sit alone on a bench in the changing room, intimidated by the big-name players around you.
Shankley approaches.
‘Ya nervous sonny?
You nod nervously.
‘I don’t see why. There will be forty thousand men, women and children out there kicking every ball with you. You’ll tackle with the strength of the multitudes. Shoot with the power of the working man. A man who has forty thousand people on his side shouldn’t be nervous. He is invincible.’
Big Mal sits beside you holding a piece of paper. You try not to cough as the fug of cigar smoke hits your nostrils.
He explains what is expected of you today. The tactics are complicated and far more sophisticated than what you’re used to but he explains them in such a way that you easily understand. He draws a simple diagram to confirm your main duties then tells you about the centre-half who will be marking you, an in-depth deconstruction of his weaknesses that both fills you with confidence and amazes you with how the hell he knows all this stuff.
‘He doesn’t trust his left peg so will look to the keeper if the ball’s on his left side. Look to intercept the back-pass. Strong in the air but if you get physical early he goes into his shell. He picked up a groin strain a couple of weeks back and is still feeling it so make him turn as much as possible......’
‘He’s useless. Can’t pass. Can’t run. Past it’ Shankley chimes in.
Big Mal grins beneath his fedora. You grin too.
As you are putting on your top you pause for a second and look down at the badge.
Busby notices and with an avuncular smile says ‘Do it proud today son. Express yourself out there’.
It is said with a combination of warmth and conviction. Your heart thuds as you suddenly realize this is not a dream, not the dream you've had all your life. This is real.
The team talk begins and is taken by Bobby. He paces every tile upon the floor, kicks imaginary footballs, briskly rubs his hands together at just the thought of the ninety minutes ahead.
His passion and enthausiasm are infectious and the room fizzes with energy.
‘What I wouldn’t give to be out there with you lads today. Playing the greatest game in the world. There’s nothing like it. Nothing comes close to this’
The noisy clack of studs on concrete as the players depart the changing room. You are the last to leave.
At the door Joe Mercer stops you with a gentle palm. He looks you in the eye, studies you for a moment, then nods and smiles warmly.
You would wall through walls.