The art of management is in handling ups and down
WHO would be a manager? In a week where Neil Lennon’s team went from playing like Boca Juniors against Lille and Aberdeen to playing like they were in the juniors five days later against Sparta Prague it must be even more baffling than some of my views on the game for the guys in the dug out. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to have a bash at it! If only to wear my baggy burton pinstripe suit and Dorothy Perkins V- neck come 3pm every Saturday.
Since my injury five weeks ago I’ve been on the side of the pitch with Jim Mcinally and Davie Nicholl at Peterhead experiencing the delight when winning and scoring goals to the sheer frustration of boys running about like stolen motors. The only way I can explain the buzz you get when your team out- works the opponents, are brave on the ball, make good decisions and most importantly score while standing on the side would be the time Kevin Kyle found a Malteser in his pocket before an Open Goal podcast. On the flip side the frustration you feel is equally as extreme when you ask the boys to press high against Kelty Hearts only for them to follow the government’s guidelines instead of ours and socially distance for a full 45 minutes.
This frustration I can only compare too Kev dropping said Malteser while trying to stuff it on his mouth and having a chocolate stain on his beeinspired polo for our 90- minute weekly chat.
The great Paul Heffernan once sat next to me after yet another shocker for Dundee when I was labelled as the worst player to ever play for the club by a local in p***stained jeans and a pair of Adidas Sambas. I still haven’t forgiven my old man for doing it in public but I’ll never forget the words that followed after it from a guy who looked in pain every time he broke out a jog: “Don’t worry about it, lad, never get too high and never get to low, the sun will still rise in the morning!”
I think I’m going to need this advice more than ever if I’m going to attempt to go from arseing about to Arsene Wenger in future. Our manager Jim Mcinally is the perfect example of this and somehow manages to keep a level head – it’s probably why he’s the longest- serving manager in Scotland. He’s a great guy to learn off and in the space of five weeks working closely with him I’ve seen how to treat players in a first- team environment. Jim isn’t a ranter and raver ( except a Saturday night where he’s a regular on Dundee’s rave scene). He can accept players make mistakes on the ball and wants them to express themselves when doing so. However, he can lose his head when the boys don’t follow basic instruction or he feels they’re playing within themselves.
He knows the right times to give boys a lambasting, as the great Tommy Burns would call
it, and when to settle it down. After hearing Paul Heffernan’s spiel one too many times at Dundee, they’d had enough and, as I’ve mentioned before, paid me up with a sum I could buy a 10- bedroom in my native Menzieshill with. I’ve still got that five grand and I’m keeping it to buy the house once this column and Open Goal goes t*** up.
I headed up north to a manager I trusted and knew I’d enjoy playing for again. On Arrival for the Blue Toon we sing a song and do a “tell us an interesting fact about yourself”. I stood up and sang The Smiths while telling the boys I was now delivering kitchens during the week as well as delivering bad performances on a Saturday afternoon.
We had also signed a young American kid who was as intense as the heat on Donald Trump’s sun bed. He get up and stood, hand on heart and with great pride, and started belting out The Star- Spangled Banner. He then proceeded to tell the boys, coaching staff and waiters at the hotel about his lack of sexual experience. While I imagine in America this news would be no biggy, it was pandemonium as the boys made it their aim to help him out. Due to his intense personality and six- out- of- 10 looks this never surfaced and he continued to be the angriest American since Donald had dealings with China.
We were playing Dunfermline one Saturday afternoon where me and this lad argued for the full 75 minutes. With us one down and Jim seeing that I was ready to kick his candy ass, he subs me for a striker as my head is ready to explode. He’s standing on the touchline and as I sit down behind him I go on a five- minute rant about the guy and at the end of it ask a rhetorical question ( words are getting bigger in these columns I know): What is wrong with that guy? Sharp as a tac, Jim turns his head and I’m expecting him to tell me to shut up for two minutes. “He needs his h***, pal!”
The bench erupts with laughter and he doesn’t break into even a smile as he turns back to watch us go down to a 1- 0 defeat.
While I think I’m off the hook after his patter on the bench, I come in expecting it to be a performance with Jim Mcinally similar to Billy Connelly’s iconic set. Instead, Jim lets me and the other guy know in no uncertain terms that we let the team down with how we acted. I was a big signing for Peterheed at the time and he showed everyone not to get above your station or he would bring you down a peg or two. As I’ve said, I’ve learnt a lot of things from Jim that I’ll take into management if I’m ever lucky enough to get a chance. The main one being don’t sign angry Americans!
I headed up north to a manager I trusted