I'll take 10 for 6 months?
Monday, September 24, 2007
William Shakespeare, please move over.
Here is a new one-act play featuring Jose Mourinho, Roman Abramovich, Peter Kenyon, Avram Grant, John Terry, Andriy Shevchenko and Frank Lampard.
It's about a football club, money and egos the size of 'Mother Russia'. There is also a knife or five involved so watch the kids. It's playing in London right now and I have the sneak preview.
The scene is Stamford Bridge on a damp Wednesday night in September. A dim light glows in the corner office of the Matthew Harding Stand. There is a heady cocktail of accents, English and foreign. Voices are raised.
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Kenyon: [sweating slightly] Jose, we're a little disappointed with you. You've only won five trophies in three years. Two Premier League crowns, two Carling Cups and one FA Cup plus you're unbeaten at the Bridge in that time — what gives? Listen, I like you a lot, honest, it's just that the boss [sighs], well, he pays the bills and ...
Mourinho: [dressed immaculately] Peter, is that a knife in your hand?
Kenyon: [sweating heavily] No, no, it's just a letter opener. I've been poring over countless resumes in the hopes of finding your ...
Mourinho: [stroking his designer stubble] Peter, why is there a river of sweat running down your nose? Is there something I should know [pauses thoughtfully]? No, don't tell me — let me see if I can guess. John Terry, the player I helped develop into one of England's finest defenders and the best-paid whiner in the Premier League has been sulking like a prom queen? Or could it be that the slowest forward in the world, Andriy Shevchenko, is complaining about playing time ... again?
Grant: [looking hopelessly out of his depth while thumbing through the latest 'Soccer For Idiots'] Excuse me, but don't talk about my captain and star striker like that ...
Mourinho: And you are?
Grant: I coach the pub team down the street. Oops, sorry Pete, can I call you Pete [looks for approval from Kenyon]? I used to coach the Maccabi & Crown. That's all the experience I need. UEFA qualifications? They're overrated. I am the 'Normal One'.
Mourinho: Abnormal, more like it.
Abramovich: [steps from behind a curtain] Jose, any more pontificating from you and it's off to Siberia. I paid you to do my bidding. Why didn't you play my lapdogs, Ballack and Shevchenko?
Mourinho: They're rubbish.
Abramovich: [laughing like a James Bond villain] Rubbish, what do you know? Anyone would think you've won a Champions League the way you strut around this place. You're nothing compared to Avram and myself. We have won everything multiple times on FIFA 07. We pick the team, we win the trophies. It isn't that hard, is it? You just press a couple of buttons, right — and now I think I will press your button.
Grant & Kenyon: [now joined at the hip] You're right boss. It's easy boss. We love you boss. Cup of tea boss? Nice suit boss. You look great tonight boss. Can we borrow loads of money boss?
Mourinho: [shrugging in his inimitable style] So are you sacking me or what? After all, I am the greatest manager in the history of the club. The manager so fantastic I gave myself the nickname of the 'Special One'.
Abramovich: How much?
Mourinho: Twenty million ...
Abramovich, Kenyon & Grant: [now an inseparable trio] Done. You're sacked.
Mourinho: Before I go though, I want to say goodbye to some of my former trusted players. JT, where are you, my son?
Terry: [pulling out the knives from Mourinho's back] Right behind you, boss.
Mourinho: Sheva, where are you, my son?
Shevchenko: [also pulling out the knives from Mourinho's back] I'm right behind you too, boss.
Mourinho: Lamps, Lamps, where are you, my son?
Lampard: [sobbing uncontrollably at Jose's feet] Jose, don't go! I'll follow you anywhere. Please don't go! [glares at JT and Sheva] I'll get you two later.
Shevchenko & Terry: [now joined at the hip] No you won't, we pick the team now. Right Roman?
Mourinho: [looks at AKG as they're now known] I thought you clowns picked the team?
AGK: We do.
Shevchenko & Terry: Hey, that's not the deal!
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An almighty row ensues between the five of them. A cartoon dust cloud erupts with the words 'biff', 'bang', 'pow' and 'crunch' enveloping them.
Mourinho leaves Stamford Bridge, counting his money. Lampard is still clinging to Jose's leg.
The End.
Until then, get the beers in ...
Fox Soccer Channel's Nick Webster writes about English soccer for FOXSoccer.com, and contributes his blog to interact with his fans.
Just thought that that little article from my trustee foxsoccer website was entertaining enough :)
As many of you know, I am a Chelsea fan and Mourinho's departure has obviously left me depressed and rather peeved off at one particular Russian and his stupid money and assertions on one particular player. Let's just be clear I did not mention any names :)
Who the hell is Grant? Honestly, I'd rather have little Svenny coming in and taking over Chelsea duties than this....Grant character. Puppets. Soviet Union-esque (in football terms of course). No exodus of players had better occur otherwise..well...that'd be too grim a moment to think of :S
