Glory Of The Football Manager System

[The Carabao Cup lift. February 2018. The Holmesdale singing. The lads passing the trophy down the line. Mili holding it above his head. Steve Parish at the top of the steps in a club tracksuit he had not worn since 2010.]

[Anfield. December 2017. The dressing room after the one-one draw. Mama crying without making a sound. Wilf with his head against the locker. The silence of the dressing room. Me at the door.]

The footage was from inside the room looking out. I was at the doorframe with one hand on it, not coming in and not going. The me on the screen looked older than the me in the chair felt. He had not slept in two days.

”Stop it.”

Ruth paused.

”That one comes out.”

Elena turned her head. Did not say anything for a moment.

”Which part.”

”Mama. The bit with Mama. Take it out.”

”Daniel.”

”Take it out, Elena. Not the wide shot. Not me at the door. Mama is on his own in that frame for two seconds and you have him crying and he does not know there is a camera in the room. Take it out.”

She looked at the tablet. Looked back at me.

”It is the best two seconds in the four hours.”

”I know it is the best two seconds in the four hours. Take it out.”

”I will get one more thing out of him in Paris in May. There is a sit-down we have not done yet with him and his mother. If I get something close to as good in the sit-down, we replace the Anfield two seconds with the sit-down. If I do not, the Anfield two seconds stay because the four hours need them.”

”You replace it.”

”I will try. If I cannot, we negotiate.”

”We negotiate.”

She nodded. Ruth started it again.

[Salzburg first leg. The Red Bull Arena. The away end. The Mateo carry that broke the press. The bench rising as the ball goes in.]

[Selhurst. The Salzburg second leg. The tifo dropping. The Salzburg away end in their three hundreds. The Holmesdale at full volume.]

[Steve Coppell in the dressing room afterwards. The lads standing for him. Mama walking across the room and kissing him on the top of the head.]

I looked down at my hands.

Ruth paused the screen without being asked.

”Keep going.”

She did not. Looked at Elena.

Elena said, quietly: ”Daniel. Five minutes. The room is yours.”

She got up. Tomás got up. Ruth got up. Ben got up.

I sat in the room on my own for five minutes.

[Beckenham. The Screening Room. 16:34 BST.]

When they came back in I had drunk three-quarters of the water bottle she had left on the side table.

”All right.”

”Continue.”

Ruth hit the trackpad.

[Konaté at the Sporting first leg. His grandmother in seat block B with the steward leaning over to her. Konaté at the back of the lap of honour stopping in front of her and looking up. His grandmother taking her headscarf off and waving it at him with both hands.]

[Bruno Fernandes shaking my hand at the centre circle.]

[The Holmesdale singing European nights for two minutes after the third goal.]

The screen cut to black.

White text came up.

THE WALSH WAY - A Netflix Original Documentary Series. October 2018.

The screen went dark.

I looked at Elena.

”That is twelve minutes.”

”That is the spine. The four hours has all of this in the longer form plus a lot more. We sit with players. We sit with Sarah for forty minutes in episode two. We sit with Bray for an hour. There is a section we have not filmed yet which is Mama with his mother in Paris in May, which I am driving over for.

There is a section we have not filmed yet which is Steve Parish on the day he bought the club out of administration in 2010, which we are doing in his house in two weeks. There is a long sit-down with Coppell which I have shot but I have not cut.

There is a Bruno Fernandes piece I shot at half-time last night that I am editing on Monday. And there is whatever happens at Wembley tomorrow and in Lisbon next week and in Lyon in three weeks and at the Etihad in three and a half, which is the back half of episode four, which I will not have until you have it.”

”That is a lot of footage.”

”It is. There are two interviews I do not have which I would like.”

”Who?”

”Your mother. One hour.”

”All right.”

”The taxi driver. Raj. I would like to sit him down properly. Twenty minutes. I have his number.”

”Ring him. Both of them. Get them done before the season ends.”

”All right.”

She did not stop. I had thought she was done.

”Daniel.”

”Yeah.”

”The Sarah footage. I will not show her. Even when the rough cut is locked. She finds out when the country finds out. You do not tell her.”

”I do not tell her.”

”She is going to hate it for forty-eight hours because Sarah is Sarah. Then she will not hate it any more. The four hours is not the cup or the league or the Europa. The four hours is what Sarah did. What Bray did. What you did when nobody was watching. The matches are the loud part. The film is the quiet part.”

”All right.”

She set the tablet on the side table. Did not look up from it for a second.

”You did not see yourself either. You have not had time to see yourself. Part of why I have made the four hours is so that when it is finished and you sit in a screening room one more time, you will see what you have done. The other reason I have made the four hours is the country. The two reasons are the same reason.”

I did not answer that one.

”One more thing before you go. Not the documentary. The Spider-Man people.”

***

Thank you for 150 Golden Tickets.