The Secret Footballer

Re: The Secret Footballer..... 'Lifting the Lid'

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Re: The Secret Footballer..... 'Lifting the Lid'

My brother plays cricket with a lad who works for the guardian and hes been told its one journalist who interviews 3 or 4 players and makes an article or book out of the players stories
 
Re: The Secret Footballer..... 'Lifting the Lid'

Citizen52 said:
The Pink Panther said:
Harry Godwin said:
I read it and thought it was garbage.Poorly written collection of stories that
could have been written by anyone,including myself. Yes there are a few "clues"
dropped in to keep you interested but even they are generic.

Poor
4/10


Have you tried reading Pele's autobiography? It's like something that was written by a six year old

"So we went on a train. I was standing on the seat looking out of the window. The scenery was enthralling. I leaned out of the window too far and felt myself falling. Fortunately, my Father pulled me back into the carriage. For the rest of the journey I had to sit between my Mother and Father. I was not allowed to look out of the window again"

What happened next? Don't keep me hanging on like this PP.

"When the train arrived at Crewe. We had to change for Watford. We studied the monitor. Dad said we needed to go to Platform 6 but Mam insisted that it was Platform 9. It was only then that we noticed that my mother had been upside down, all the way from Aberdeen. Bless her, she never was one to complain!

Her skirt had fallen over her head, exposing her skimpy, lace underwear. It was at that moment that Dad sighed and told me something which I would remember for the rest of my life: 'Edson,' he said sorrowfully, 'I don't suffer from erectile dysfunction but if I did, I'd recommend Viagra!'
Nope, I didn't believe that shit either."
 
Re: The Secret Footballer..... 'Lifting the Lid'

mad4city said:
Citizen52 said:
The Pink Panther said:
Have you tried reading Pele's autobiography? It's like something that was written by a six year old

"So we went on a train. I was standing on the seat looking out of the window. The scenery was enthralling. I leaned out of the window too far and felt myself falling. Fortunately, my Father pulled me back into the carriage. For the rest of the journey I had to sit between my Mother and Father. I was not allowed to look out of the window again"

What happened next? Don't keep me hanging on like this PP.

"When the train arrived at Crewe. We had to change for Watford. We studied the monitor. Dad said we needed to go to Platform 6 but Mam insisted that it was Platform 9. It was only then that we noticed that my mother had been upside down, all the way from Aberdeen. Bless her, she never was one to complain!

Her skirt had fallen over her head, exposing her skimpy, lace underwear. It was at that moment that Dad sighed and told me something which I would remember for the rest of my life: 'Edson,' he said sorrowfully, 'I don't suffer from erectile dysfunction but if I did, I'd recommend Viagra!'
Nope, I didn't believe that shit either."


Holy shit! After reading that I thought I was standing on the opposite platform in the late 50s such is your abilility for story writing.is there more please
 
Re: The Secret Footballer..... 'Lifting the Lid'

mac said:
mad4city said:
Citizen52 said:
What happened next? Don't keep me hanging on like this PP.

"When the train arrived at Crewe. We had to change for Watford. We studied the monitor. Dad said we needed to go to Platform 6 but Mam insisted that it was Platform 9. It was only then that we noticed that my mother had been upside down, all the way from Aberdeen. Bless her, she never was one to complain!

Her skirt had fallen over her head, exposing her skimpy, lace underwear. It was at that moment that Dad sighed and told me something which I would remember for the rest of my life: 'Edson,' he said sorrowfully, 'I don't suffer from erectile dysfunction but if I did, I'd recommend Viagra!'
Nope, I didn't believe that shit either."


Holy shit! After reading that I thought I was standing on the opposite platform in the late 50s such is your abilility for story writing.is there more please
Oh go on then...


We proceeded to Black Heath Downs, training ground of the world famous Tolcaster Rovers.
This is it! This is the big time, I remember thinking as I gazed upon those legendary wrought iron ducks. Little did I know how much I had to learn about life, about football and even about wrought iron ducks!
We were greeted by Alf 'Warty' Fullerton, a loveable, larger than life character who was part of the fabric of the club.
"Och, aye de noo," he growled in his thick Scottish brogue. "But ye must be the wee Brazilian fambly. The boss'll be seein' ya in a mo!"
The boss was Mickey Finnegan, a quick talking cockney who'd once captained an England wartime XI to victory over my beloved Brazil, despite three of his team having only one leg between them. That result has always been disputed back home in Rio. Some say the ref, Mr Webb was bent, more say that the only goal was offside and that Brazil had three legitimate goals disallowed but the truth is we'll never really know and must take the FA at it's word because there weren't actually any Brazilians present that day, due to wartime travelling restrictions. It's a miracle we held out as long as we did against an English side because all England teams are obviously magnificent and would be my automatic tip for every World Cup since.
Mickey Finnegan was seated in a plush office surrounded by crates of silk stockings and Woodbine cigarettes. He wasn't a smuggler, he just liked smoking whilst wearing silk stockings.
"Mr Nasci-what'sit," he told my father, "we want your boy to play for Rovers!"
Before my father could reply, my mother asked if there was a signing on fee. Mickey threw her a shiny sixpence. Instinctively, she whipped off her panties. Oh, how we all laughed!
But that was it! I was on my way! Less than five years and 220 First Division games later, I'd move up north to become a homegrown product of the famous Manchester United academy.
Tolcaster are now defunct of course. They famously almost went broke after filing an unsuccessful lawsuit against the fitter who'd crafted their magnificent wrought iron ducks. (They'd ordered swans!). They'll always have a place in my heart, though.Especially the wonderful fans who love me so, so much. I was in tears when they finally went under after I had to sue the club myself for allowing me to catch ringworm off of Warty Fullerton. Interestingly, those wrought iron ducks now form the gates to my Dubai home. I was always a sucker for sentiment.
EDIT: My secretary says they're actually the gates to the ranch in Colorado. She may well be right. I really can't recall.
 
Re: The Secret Footballer..... 'Lifting the Lid'

mad4city said:
mac said:
mad4city said:
"When the train arrived at Crewe. We had to change for Watford. We studied the monitor. Dad said we needed to go to Platform 6 but Mam insisted that it was Platform 9. It was only then that we noticed that my mother had been upside down, all the way from Aberdeen. Bless her, she never was one to complain!

Her skirt had fallen over her head, exposing her skimpy, lace underwear. It was at that moment that Dad sighed and told me something which I would remember for the rest of my life: 'Edson,' he said sorrowfully, 'I don't suffer from erectile dysfunction but if I did, I'd recommend Viagra!'
Nope, I didn't believe that shit either."


Holy shit! After reading that I thought I was standing on the opposite platform in the late 50s such is your abilility for story writing.is there more please
Oh go on then...


We proceeded to Black Heath Downs, training ground of the world famous Tolcaster Rovers.
This is it! This is the big time, I remember thinking as I gazed upon those legendary wrought iron ducks. Little did I know how much I had to learn about life, about football and even about wrought iron ducks!
We were greeted by Alf 'Warty' Fullerton, a loveable, larger than life character who was part of the fabric of the club.
"Och, aye de noo," he growled in his thick Scottish brogue. "But ye must be the wee Brazilian fambly. The boss'll be seein' ya in a mo!"
The boss was Mickey Finnegan, a quick talking cockney who'd once captained an England wartime XI to victory over my beloved Brazil, despite three of his team having only one leg between them. That result has always been disputed back home in Rio. Some say the ref, Mr Webb was bent, more say that the only goal was offside and that Brazil had three legitimate goals disallowed but the truth is we'll never really know and must take the FA at it's word because there weren't actually any Brazilians present that day, due to wartime travelling restrictions. It's a miracle we held out as long as we did against an English side because all England teams are obviously magnificent and would be my automatic tip for every World Cup since.
Mickey Finnegan was seated in a plush office surrounded by crates of silk stockings and Woodbine cigarettes. He wasn't a smuggler, he just liked smoking whilst wearing silk stockings.
"Mr Nasci-what'sit," he told my father, "we want your boy to play for Rovers!"
Before my father could reply, my mother asked if there was a signing on fee. Mickey threw her a shiny sixpence. Instinctively, she whipped off her panties. Oh, how we all laughed!
But that was it! I was on my way! Less than five years and 220 First Division games later, I'd move up north to become a homegrown product of the famous Manchester United academy.
Tolcaster are now defunct of course. They famously almost went broke after filing an unsuccessful lawsuit against the fitter who'd crafted their magnificent wrought iron ducks. (They'd ordered swans!). They'll always have a place in my heart, though.Especially the wonderful fans who love me so, so much. I was in tears when they finally went under after I had to sue the club myself for allowing me to catch ringworm off of Warty Fullerton. Interestingly, those wrought iron ducks now form the gates to my Dubai home. I was always a sucker for sentiment.
EDIT: My secretary says they're actually the gates to the ranch in Colorado. She may well be right. I really can't recall.
If that´s a sample of your stuff you´d make Nick Hornby sound positively soporific (bit of an oxymoron there)
 
The Secret Footballer

Interesting read these two books.

A lot of speculation on the identity of the player, but after reading some of the second book, it is pretty obvious that it is Dave Kitson. Some intriguing stories and for a book which is supposed to be completely anonymous, there are some pretty obvious hints.

Anyone else read them.
 
Re: The Secret Footballer

It can be discussed here... <a class="postlink-local" href="http://forums.bluemoon-mcfc.co.uk/viewtopic.php?f=14&t=264802&hilit=secret" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;">viewtopic.php?f=14&t=264802&hilit=secret</a>
 

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