The Tinker man’s conjuring skills show anything is possible next season.

I’d checked in at Birmingham airport for my 0630 Flybe flight to Palma, Majorca. I was glad to be in its air conditioned surroundings after a sultry night spent tossing and turning in the nearby Ibis Hotel. Not one for early starts I savoured the caffeine kick from my double expresso I’d brought earlier from Costy Coffee. Doris, who’d served and short changed me, had been unhappy when I questioning her ability to count, but I had bigger fish to fry that day than that sultry bitch.

The Gazette had bagged an exclusive interview with Jimmy Wheel, chief honcho at Clash City and I’d been requested to conduct it and I was honoured. Jimmy was the talk of the town after a mesmerising CofE season leading to the title and a runners up spot in the cup. I couldn’t wait to get to his Hacienda in Port Soller to meet him. Accordingly his own journey, just to get to the airport had taken 2 days, as he’d fought his way through adoring crowds filling the streets of Fulhamenese celebrating City’s championship win and the ending of the domination of the Elliott twins, collapsing their ‘Unbeatables’ enigma.

I realised my journey wouldn’t be as hetic as his, as I took in my surroundings, peering from behind my cup. The airport was already alive with families and groups heading out to Mediterranean hot spots. Many were already dressed for the beach, waddling past in vests and shorts, their visible flesh festooned with uninspiring tattoos, their kids towed behind on trunkie suitcases.

Many appeared to be Henry Hotspur fans, displaying the clubs crest, either by question ble body art or their insipid pink and black home shirt. They brazenly strutted around as though they owned the place. I suspected some were the notorious Henry ultras who’d rioted on a regular basis all season. Not stopping at the carnage caused, they’d also issued a fatwa on me alleging their messiah The Guvnor was dissed in my Pulitzer prize interview the previous year.

They were a deluded bunch but still dangerous. I waited for them to pass, keeping my head low as as I drained my expresso, savouring the grainy sugary dregs at the bottom. I smirked, remembering our interview. He’d left me to foot the bill at the Dog & Doug cafe and promised to run naked down Cheltenham High St with his underpants over his head if City topped the Spurs.

As I wandered down to the departure gate, chomping on a Crunchie, I knew he’d never stump up his half for the breakfast or honour his pledge to streak in his home town.  Many people and fans – their grounds trashed by his ultras, had demanded he fulfill his obligation after Hotspurs finished a pitiful 300 points behind the City, but I knew their hopes would be dashed. I shook my head in disbelief at the Guvnor’s antics as I boarded the flight, glad to see none of his ultras in close proximity to my seat.

Later, flying above the plains of Spain as we tracked our way to Barcelona before turning east to Majorca I pondered the views of other pundits and hacks who’d described the season as the most competitive and exciting ever with 6 teams finishing with over 2050 points

City had started it slowly; languishing towards the bottom. Some idiots on social media had called for Jimmy’s head, as the west coast boys made the early running, building on their impressive season before, with Brucharest like a marauding shark keeping close to their wake. Reigning champions Martial Law went into melt down early, while perennial underachievers the Chiefs and Athletico spared with each losing valuable momentum as their struggling supremo’s were both linked with gay-bar allegations. By week 7 Jimmy, weathered the storm. Playing his bench boost early saw a moral boosting cup win over Brucharest, paving the way for a remarkable run of form.

 

By the beginning of April, City commanded a big lead. Their consistency through the winter months was remarkable as the ‘Tinker Man’ as Jimmy had become known tweeked his squad and rotated his captains building impressive weekly scores. However he always had to have an eye over his shoulder. Brucharest continued to improve and Winter is here refused to give up the chase. By the last 4 weeks Martial Law had caught fire rampaging up the table, jostling with the likes of the Chiefs and Loz Feliz for a coveted spot in Europe. At the top it was squeeky bum time as City desperately maintained a 40 point lead going into the final week.

Fighting on two fronts had taken its toll on an exhausted City team. They capitulated in the cup allowing Brucharest to sneak in the back door, bringing some glory to ‘The Boss’ who’d also had a fantastic season and the silence was palatable in Fulhamenese as the clock clicked down as the gap at the top got ever smaller. Frantic calculations were made at 5pm as Jimmy’s blood pressure accordingly reached critical levels before the news started to circulate that City had indeed won the title by a mere 16 points.

It might have been even closer if ‘The Boss’ hadn’t sacrificed 12 points on substitutions earlier that day, but on the streets of Fulhamenese no-one gave a flying fuck as they celebrated on mass. Staring down at Majorca mountainous west coast as we started to descend, I couldn’t wait to find out what Jimmy’s secret to success was and what it meant to be a winner.

The journey from the airport in a taxi took about an hour. Driving up into the mountains through quaint villages with the smell of pine filling the air was relaxing as well as beautiful as we made our way to Port Soller, passing its famous gauge railway, before the seafront with its restaurants and boulevard, opened up before us. Jimmy’s hacienda, a one storey structure in white and terracota stone on the Boulevard Fantastico was set back a little, but still provided panoramic views of the harbour and its nearby beaches. He was waiting outside watering his roses as Pablo my taxi driver pulled up allowing me to get out.

‘Great to see you Dan – trust your journey was quicker than mine’, he said, a beaming smile across his face, as he wheeled up to me. Dressed in blue shorts with a scraggy white tee-shirt that held his pot belly in, Jimmy looked to be in good health. His balding head already had a perma tan and he appeared relaxed as he showed me through to his large sun lounge overlooking one of the Blue flag beaches. He gazed below at a pair of topless women playing in the gentle surf below.

‘I fucking love it here Dan – Isn’t it amazing’ he exhorted loudly, sweeping his hand across the vista, taking in its magnificense.

 

Clearly he was in his element as he invited me to join him at one of the stained pine tables around the table. ‘Do you fancy a drink Dan’ – I indeed was parched, it was hot under the scalding sun and beads of sweat were already forming on my forehead. ‘Yes, I’d love a cold beer’ I replied. He turned his head and started to shout at the house, ‘Hola Julia..Hola!’ Soon a pretty Spanish girl, with long hair appeared. Jimmy smiled as she approached, under his breath he said, ‘She’s helping me learn Spanish Dan…keeps the place spotless…and my bed nice and warm’ he slapped my knee, laughing at his poor joke as Julia joined us.

His demeanour shocked me somewhat. I’d been led to believe he was a metrosexual type of guy but I was already seeing some dark undertones, ‘ Dos cerveza grande por favor, mon cheri’ His Spanish was shit and his manners were not much better as he slapped Julia on her bottom sending her on her way for the drinks. As we waited for our beers I got my notepad out of my briefcase and voice recorder. I glanced at him as he continued to gaze at the girls in the surf. He was broken from his trance by the chink of glass as Julia returned, shouting out, ‘ Here we go’ visibly excited as she placed the cold beers on the table.

We touched glasses toasting ‘Salute’, and I watched him quaff his down, drops of it cascading onto his now stained tee-shirt. He reminded me of ‘The Guvnor’ eating egg and chips that time, with all the yolk on his chin – fuck they were so similar, they could have been brothers – it was uncanny. A gut feeling was telling me to get the interview going as my return flight was later that day and Jimmy seemed in party mood ordering Julia to get more beer and sparking a joint up, that he’d hidden in shirt pocket. He noticed my disapproval but simply shrugged ‘Lighten up Dan, it’s for my pain’ leaning back in his chair and inhaling deeply.

Before management his playing career had been one of a journeyman playing for a number of teams around the country, including Bristol Titty. He was a prolific scorer in all departments, before disaster struck and he turned up for training in a wheelchair. Immediately released from his contract, he returned to Fulhamenese, drawing disability benefits and attending the local night school where he trained to be a manager. Rumours had it he suffered from a brain disorder but he soldiered on regardless, before being offered the City job on a 5 year contract, a once in a lifetime opportunity he’d seen advertised in his local job centre.

His initiation to the CofE for the first two years was disappointing, finishing mid table and failing to make any impact. His refusal to sign Suarez for his gang affiliation and the ridicule he received from other managers hurt him. Returning stronger, with a little bit more guile, he soon made the position his own.

Year 3 saw a huge transformation in City. Jimmy had periods of vertigo as the team reached for the top three before finishing an admirable fourth and grabbing that sought after spot in Europe. It caused a few brows to furrow with whispers of ‘it’s a one off’, but for Jimmy it was a flag in the sand moment, a statement of arrival and the middle finger denunciation of his detractors.

I asked him whether the 4th place finish was the catalyst for the title push? ; as he sipped his second pint which Julia had brought, drawing deeply on his spliff.

‘Yes it was a vital stepping stone’ he momentarily paused to exhale plumes of smoke before adding, ‘I learnt I had to get over the gang shit, I was missing out on to many points by not playing those bastards, so something had to change, so I turned a blind eye to all their war crimes’. Over the season he’d dabbled with Mane, Origi and Firminho getting a nice point return even if it meant he’d sold his soul to the devil.

I was interested to know when he felt he could win the title and what a manager requires to reach that peak, he smiled taking the last toke of his joint ‘ I went into it buoyed by last season but we hit quicksand early on and that held us up. Once we got a head of steam though, it was like clockwork’ he said with a satisfied look ‘We should have gone top on Week 19, that was the plan, but had to wait a week, but once there I thought our momentum would see us through’ I sensed he took the league seriously and was keen to find about City’s scientific approach to training and why it was so cutting edge.

He seemed to puff up, clearly proud of the clubs achievement, tears forming in his eyes, replying with a slight waiver in his voice, ‘If you are in this league, you can’t dip in and dip out – you’ll just get fucked up the arse if you do’ he carried on relaxing in his perceived aura. ‘This club has a scouting network that would make Mossad proud. It’s the best in the world’ I raised my eyebrows at his analogy and lofty claim, as he chortled away at his supposed hilarity. ‘We found Harry Kane and the Lorente lad long before anyone else, the amount of work that went into developing those boys so they delivered, was phenomenal’. The two strikers were just a number of sensational swoops he made in the season, including Joe Allen and Robert Snodgrass when they were swimming in points.

He then gave special flak surprisingly at The Boss, who’d run him so close. ‘I knew I had in the bag when we chatted at this Vegan festival we both happened to be at in March. Firstly he started saying he’d spent an hour studying his team for one week’s fixtures – I thought he was having a fucking laugh! I’m crunching those figures and looking at players 24/7 – this league isn’t a stroll in the park, it’s a lifestyle choice Dan, and that surprised me considering his record’. The Boss had successfully led Brucharest to one title and two top three finishes but a poor second third of the season had cost him.

He paused and then started laughing, ‘To cap it all he then didn’t know all his weekly transfers were public and by dipping into the market early in the week, it left him blind – basically I had his enigma code and could work around it,…man, it was like taking candy of a big fat fucking baby’.

Julia had by now returned with a selection of tapas dishes and more beer and we tucked in. Jimmy rabbited on about Spanish food and how to cook an octopus, rampaging through the offerings laid in front of him, before I got him back on track, asking would he be challenging for the title again.

He choked a little as the question sunk in, coughing and spluttering for a few seconds, clearing his throat with more beer. Once he’d composed himself, slightly red faced and horse voiced, he answered with unequivocal defiance and a degree of distain for some of his fellow managers

‘Of course we are going to be challenging next season, you stupid cunt’  – I’d clearly hit a raw nerve, as he shook his head scornfully.

‘This was always a five year plan, so we are already massively ahead. It was huge to break the Elliott domination – it will have given fresh impetus to a host of managers that they can be next. But we’re be there or there abouts next season, continuing to build and learn from our mistakes’ He acknowledged City had limped over the line after their blistering midseason form.

‘Yes I was shitting myself – we’d run out of steam. I played my chips to soon and got fucked over on some substitutes, like those gooner twats Giroud & Wellbeck at the end. If there had been another week, we might have lost it’.

Although winning the championship had bought great joy, the disappointment of missing out on the fabled double did blemish the season somewhat. Jimmy was clearly irate with Rufio manager of Athletico, who’d beaten City on the final day. ‘For fuck sake…you’ve got to agree, something dodgy was going on there’. I tried not to look shocked at his revelation. The two had had beef about film rights before, but Rufio’s saving of the bench boost to hand the title to Brucharest, had Jimmy a wash with conspiracy theories.

‘He wasn’t here for half the fucking season, concentrating on his stateside franchise, talking mostly shit and then he throws that on the last day. I’m certain dark forces were at play. The ruling order couldn’t face a total wipe out, so they used him! Talk about them being all in it together…I felt robbed! Clearly the heat and the beer was getting to him as he wheeled off precariously to urinate in a bottle he kept handy, ‘Never again on my watch mate…never again’ he roared as he saddled up against the wall.

 

I turned away, he clearly was a man with no shame and I sensed it was time to round up the interview and get the fuck out of there. I asked him what his predictions were for the coming season when he had finished, checking my watch to make out I was on some kind of schedule. His answer was surprisingly cutting edge and stripped the league down to it’s bare bones, ‘In my humble opinion, I feel the league has now evolved. Ultimately we now have three leagues in one and it will take a seismic shift to change that’

His idea was interesting and I encouraged him to elaborate. ‘Take the top four. You are guaranteed two of the big hitters in there and that includes City. We’ve transcended to another level, but I expect Brucharest to come back stronger. Then it’s all about Martial law.  I saw him too at that Vegan festival in March and there was a hunger in his eye’. He finished like an express train and achieved 3 manager of the month awards last seasons and he’s already got two titles in the bag. If he hadn’t been hampered by his poor start, who knows? I expect those boys to be the big danger.

Jimmy then turned his eye to the battle for fourth ‘I love what they are doing across the pond’ he was of course referring to Winter is here and Los Feliz. ‘If it was a horse race you’d always have a strong each way bet on Los Feliz’. Two top 4 finishes had seen The Colonel charges in top form and capable of more. ‘He runs a tight ship, is comfortable in his position and happy to mix it up. He’s elevated himself over quite a few of the ‘also rans’ and he’s a competitive fuck, so he’ll be knocking on the door’.

Jimmy was also keen to eulogise the work of the Buddha at Winter. ‘Strike a fucking light, he just kept going and was a danger right to the end’. Winter’s position of 3rd might have been even higher if a drug scandel hadn’t hit the club, Buddha (probably high) had also forgotten to play one of his chips, losing out on vital points but Jimmy saw a bright future. ‘Clearly he needs to get this substance abuse in order, but he reads the game brilliantly. He’s got a good thing going there and has struck on the previous year, he’ll be fighting for the top four next season…’ Jimmy leaned towards me looking serious, lowering his voice ‘….but he’s a flippant fucker. They did us in the cup in December and he started singing that shite anthem of theirs in my face which disappointed me -he’s gotta watch that cock sure attitude, or someone like the Guvnor will spark him’. Jimmy was obviously unhappy at Buddahs victory bomb and retreated to his glass mouthing the word ‘twat’ as he downed its contents.

The mention of The Guvnor though took us back home so I asked Jimmy how he saw the remaining teams prospects especially the chiefs and their coach Bishop Coke. They had received a strong 2050 points but had still finished 6th. ‘He’s got to get a bit more stability there. It’s not helping with the temporary move to Cosford whilst the new stadium is built at Carteton and that’s holding them back’. Jimmy piled stright on. ‘He’s got to remain focussed, once he knew the top three was beyond him he seemed to lose it. Then those pictures of him with his boyfriend Chico in Benidorm came out and then accordingly he forgot to pick his team – you just can’t do that in the Cof E’.

However he saw better days ahead for the Chiefs. ‘They’ve got it in them as they are full of optimism and belief. If he can keep his blinkers on and ride a bit of luck then they could be the surprise package. There is little doubt about their physical strength, there are some big boys in that team – but we’re have to wait and see’.

I started to pack up my belongings as Jimmy continue to run the rule over the best of the rest and the ‘also rans’ as he saw them, taking another dig at Athletico and their head Rufio. ‘I always thought coming from his blood line, he’d push on but there is a missing link somewhere’. Rufio had also faced scandal when intimate photographs of him with his jilted partner were released in the press. He had strenuously denied the pictures, saying they were fake news but Jimmy felt he was more about bluster than focus. ‘The boy talks a good game and has the odd ‘fucking’ moment’ clearly it would take time for Jimmy’s bitterness for his final day defeat to wane, ‘but he’s going to keep treading water unless he starts to apply himself. It’s the law of the jungle – if he doesn’t he’ll be eaten up’.

As he saw it the remaining five contenders would be unlikely to mount any serious challenge. Describing the Tigers as no more than early pace setters guaranteed to run out of steam and the Hotspurs as a shadow of team that fought Brucharest for the title three seasons back. ‘Not sure what’s going on in that neck of the woods, Larry Llyold just seems happy to make up the numbers and the Guvnor has lost his game altogether’. Jimmy felt he could slide further, ‘He’s got to be careful, Wally Red had a poor season and he’ll be chomping at the bit to get a flying start and I like the look of the new lad ‘Time Out Tony”. United had a poor inaugural season finishing bottom but Jimmy saw enough in the last quarter suggesting they could kick on too. ‘They definitely improved and just now need to take that consistency into next season. If they do they could finish mid table, perhaps higher. The manager down there has been round the block and is used to pressure. He knows the league is competitive, and it’s there to be climbed – just look at City’.

Julia had returned and I thanked her for her hospitality. Jimmy requested she call me a taxi and as I waited we discussed the forgotten man Laurence of Aruba supposed head of LA Models. ‘He’s having a fucking bubble that lad’. Jimmy had spent time him with early in the season and saw no future, ‘Look I’m not saying this is gospel but I’ve heard he doesn’t pull the strings at the Models, he’s got no say in team selection’. A rumour had surfaced from top sources according to Jimmy,  that Aruba hadn’t even looked at his team all season, but had still achieved notable scalps in the cup.  Jimmy was sure he was simply there as a figurehead, ‘He gets a lot of publicity, he’s a good looking boy who shags classy chicks…it’s good for their corporate image, but he’s no manager. How they didn’t go straight down, I’ll never know. Seriously he hasn’t got a scoobie doo…’

He was interrupted mid flow by the doorbell going, evidently my taxi had arrived. Once again I congratulated him on his tremendous achievement as I stood and we shook hands, as I thanked him for the interview, heading for the door. I’d come to the conclusion having met most of the CofE contenders that they were all a whacky bunch but this guy took the biscuit as he waved to me like a demented head case as my taxi slipped away on its journey back to the airport.

There is no doubt City’s achievement has opened up the league for next season and it promises to be more exciting as ever. The Invincibles have proven they can be beaten and their resolve to reclaim the throne will be burning. Preseason will see all managers on an extended shopping trips, honing and preparing their squads, so that they are ready for the kick off in August. The Tinker man already blasting on about potential new signings will have his team ready when the whistle blows. It’s a guarantee they will be firing on all cylinders, desperate to defend their title and once again to be inscribed as history maker, in the evolution of the CofE championship.

 

Odds: 10/3 Lawerence Elliott, 4/1 Bruce Elliott, James Coke, 5/1 Simon Coke, 7/1 Raef Coke, 9/1 Connor Coke, 10/1 Oliver Coke, 11/1 Tony Elliott, 12/1 Rufus Elliott, 15/1 Henry Coke, 20/1 Felix Coke, 5000/1 Laurence Coke