As a coach Iron Mikey turned out to be quite brutal. I do not know how he motivated our blokes or how he pumped them up, but it all came down to the ruthless extermination of enemy midfielders, to endless jabs and fighting for the ball in the centre of the pitch. The entire tactic of our team today was hitting the ball as powerfully and far away as possible, everyone seemed to have forgotten about some sort of passing in the game. Overall it appeared to be more like rugby than football.
We have to give due tribute to the Cardiff players, they probably also missed playing such a game and gladly accepted the proposed rhythm and intensity, taking hits and tackles hard in the legs, using their elbows and knees, like in Thai boxing. Well, you can probably understand them, as their coach had also been a defender and a bone breaker in the past. At the beginning of the season he was still trying to teach his "masters of the leather ball" to exit a defensive game through short passes, something which Guardiola was also looking for, but when in the first few matches this «tiki-taka» brought them a series of goals into their own net, he returned, so to speak, to the roots.
At the break, the team line-ups were incomplete when they left the pitch. Their team removed two players and we only took out Davey Roberts, but five more were hanging on yellow cards.
My ward got kicked in the legs a couple of times, but he seemed to be doing a great job and didn't get into any fights. I simply couldn't miss the second episode of the show called "the setup from Iron Mikey" and found my way into the locker room.
Our new coach was pleased with the "dedication and team pressure". I didn't even know Mikey knew such words. He was especially pleased with how the "Welsh faggots" ran to their dressing room with their tails between their legs and seemed afraid to come out for the second half. Well, that's what he said for good measure. Ours, of course, had also paid a price. Adam Varga couldn't even step on his left foot and Parker had a deep cut to his eyebrow, but Mikey was relentless, and his pumping up of the team ended with a roar of "For Harris!" What the blame of the blokes from Cardiff was for the resignation of the coach is something history is silent about but they had to be held responsible for this.
Just before going back out onto the pitch I caught Mikey's arm.
"My friend, get my cannibal off the pitch," I whispered softly, so that no one could hear me. "They'll rip his legs off."
"Dont worry Alex, don't piss yourself!" He smiled again. "Fabrice is a smooth bloke! Well play well!"
Hell play well of course.
The second half matched the first. However, their coach had managed to bring his blokes to their senses during half-time, so City finally started playing football. We were saved by the fact that they had one less player than we did, although even with unequal squads they showed us what the difference is between playing football and "team pressure" from Iron Mickey.
At the fiftieth minute they brought their striker into a killer position, but how he did not manage to score remains a mystery. Then a dangerous shot was made after a corner kick and at the end of everything, their captain fired a free kick into the crossbar, but somehow the score remained even.
In the final minutes, our «coach» finally got a red card and went to the locker room, having had time to «talk» to their assistant manager on the way. In general, Iron Mikey's coaching debut went off quite well and even though the score remained nil-nil, the fans really liked the match. It was all particularly touching.
I prayed all through the second half that my charge wouldn't get his legs blown off and that he wouldn't respond to one of their racist defenders. Thank all the gods, Fabrice managed to hold off and only got one yellow card, and it seemed that he stayed on his feet after the match without any assistance.
3
On Monday, Harris gathered everyone together for a farewell dinner. I had expected him to do it somewhere like in a good old English pub or a Chinese eatery, but the old man surprised everyone and arranged for them to close Le Gavroche which had two Michelin Stars.
Most of the boys were dressed in tuxedos, not all of them mind you but many. If you had seen Johnny Martin in a suit or Iron Mikey in a shirt with cufflinks, I'm sure you wouldn't have been able to sleep for a long time afterwards. Personally I don't think I've ever eaten so much cheese in my life. Surprisingly, everything happened with decorum and ended up being very decent.