One Game at a Time: 24/5 Season Finale Close Season Supplement.
“To lose one manager may be regarded as a misfortune, Mr Hallett. To lose two looks like carelessness. Six??? What the actual....”
With apologies to Oscar Wilde.
Boom!
There I was, just about to play the friendly leg of the Online Quiz League. A ping and then the little twinkle in the top right hand corner of the screen. Breaking News.
That was Wednesday at 9 PM. Muslic was gone. Well, going. The press release that announced it was at the saltier end of corporate communications.
The reaction has ranged from bereft to “I told you so”, which, to be fair, is the standard range of emotions to any such event in the internet world.
As for Argyle, well it is the tin hat on a season that started with shock with Waynes arrival, and then roller coastered its way through disaster in Sheffield, through optimism in the Autumn, and crisis by Christmas, as Argyles defence set up its very own charitable foundations (or lack of them). This was followed by bewilderment that there was yet another left field from which to select a coach, admiration for his ability to inspire, then disbelief when Liverpools quadruple ambitions were defenestrated at Home Park. Our new man had the temerity to take the lead at the shrine of Pep, secured not one but two away League wins (you take the small victories where you find them), and kept our flickering hopes alive until the penultimate fixture, when they had all but gone before he arrived.
Muslic however (and I will apply full twenty-twenty hindsight here) was giving off the wrong vibes. Tetchy responses when asked his plans for next season. Evasive when asked to commit to returning. Openly unhappy that the club structure and support personnel left too much on his shoulders. A Clash was coming. Will he stay or will he go now?
Then the mood music changed. Football consultants, the Dickensian sounding Bromby and Partners were already beavering away behind the scenes. David Fox filled the vacant but modified Director of Football Operations role. Tom Randle, Miron’s ex Cercle Brugge data man arrived to lead recruitment analysis.
Then players, even before the window actually opened, all expressing delight to be joining Miron’s project. Paterson from Coventry, an experienced striker first, then Caleb Watts from up the A38, where the Honiton salt mines put on extra shifts to feed the angry Six Toe propaganda machine, which broke out their best crayons for their release.
Rumours of a left back, Jack Mackenzie, fresh from a cup final win in Scotland, having recovered from an ariel bombardment of a chair, despatched from the clubs Fair Play stand, but which, encouragingly for Argyle, he apparently headed clear.
Of course talk swirled. Moose said his farewells, seeking a higher level, with even talk of clubs in Germany (hmmmm) being interested. Bali possibly heading back to his North eastern roots with interest from the Green exiles community in Boro. Hardie in Championship demand as befitted his end of season form.
A pre-season camp in Innsbruck, Austria. Miron’s back yard. The Green Army could relax.
Then as I say. Boom.
No-one can deny that Schalke 04 are a massive club, despite languishing in Bundesliga 2 and having financial constraints. A stadium that would be the fourth largest in the Premier League were they to export it under Sir Kiers new European accord.
From the response by Argyle, it is clear they thought they had ridden out the storm. Provided Muslic with the requested infrastructure and indeed, early acquisition of players. Not enough it would seem.
Whilst the triggering of an apparent seven figure release clause means Argyle have no contractual leg to stand on, the fait accompli of the act means that once again we find ourselves entering a close season seeking to replace the manager, with uncertainty over the team that the departing incumbent was assembling still in place.
The unfollowing of the club he professed to “love” in his regular social media comms does little to endear Muslic to his jilted followers. The rumoured offering of an ”at a date to be determined” friendly with his new employers carries a smack of arrogance reminiscent of Real Madrid and their hissy fit on discovering Ian Holloway camping in their preferred hotel, the Schloss Piclarn, also in Austria.
All of which leaves Muslic looking more and more like a Bond villain, perched in his alpine lair, attending to his personal grooming whilst an army of black polo clad minions deliver his plans for European football domination.
Simon is therefore cast as the Judi Dench M replacement, with Parkinson as Q, once again seeking a replacement with a licence thrill. Since his arrival we have Adams (always start with a Scot), Lowe, Schumacher, Foster, Rooney and of course, Miron.
Which means his next appointment will, of course, be 007. Phew. Almost had me worried for a moment.
We already have an extensive pool of possible candidates, not all of whom are duff, although to be fair, two, Michael and Damien, are. Given the last two coaching arrivals have never featured in betting lists, it seems pointless to use the odds as a benchmark. As Mister Big said in Live and Let Die, “names is for tombstones, baby!”
With the new investment trail looking as likely as Goldfinger’s assault on Fort Knox (no, Simon, just no….) it leaves the Green Army, to paraphrase Mister White in Spectre, “ dancing like a kite in a hurricane.” Austria again. You would think we would have learned by now.
With new agents, sorry coaches, appearing, as Hugo Drax might have predicted with “the inevitability of an unloved season”, and we have all just had one of those, whoever is appointed will obviously have an impact on recruitment and playing style. Will it be a Rosa Klebb type with “training is useful, but there is no substitute for experience” or something more mercurial like Max Zorin with his “intuitive improvisation is the secret of genius”. GC is available. Just saying.
There is no quantum of solace in the fact that we are going through the process again. A club crying out for a few, OK, one would be nice, seasons of stability is once again looking for its team’s leader. The chances are we will have been banned from the League One Manager of the Month awards next season for having too many goes.
The time has past I feel for “you only live twice” and Schuey.
Shakespeare’s Macbeth said “if it were done when ’tis done then ‘twere well it were done quickly”. Argyle fans everywhere echo that sentiment, although with the desire for stability perhaps the urgings of rogue agent Raoul Julia from Skyfall would not be the best advice to our board.
“Do it. Do it. Only you can do it. Do it.”
As Hugo Drax put it in Moonraker, “First there was the dream. Now there is reality.”
What we really want though is a coach who no-one would ever be tempted to poach. Now, where did Andrew put Waynes number.
It is going to be a long summer.
COYG!!!!!!!
“To lose one manager may be regarded as a misfortune, Mr Hallett. To lose two looks like carelessness. Six??? What the actual....”
With apologies to Oscar Wilde.
Boom!
There I was, just about to play the friendly leg of the Online Quiz League. A ping and then the little twinkle in the top right hand corner of the screen. Breaking News.
That was Wednesday at 9 PM. Muslic was gone. Well, going. The press release that announced it was at the saltier end of corporate communications.
The reaction has ranged from bereft to “I told you so”, which, to be fair, is the standard range of emotions to any such event in the internet world.
As for Argyle, well it is the tin hat on a season that started with shock with Waynes arrival, and then roller coastered its way through disaster in Sheffield, through optimism in the Autumn, and crisis by Christmas, as Argyles defence set up its very own charitable foundations (or lack of them). This was followed by bewilderment that there was yet another left field from which to select a coach, admiration for his ability to inspire, then disbelief when Liverpools quadruple ambitions were defenestrated at Home Park. Our new man had the temerity to take the lead at the shrine of Pep, secured not one but two away League wins (you take the small victories where you find them), and kept our flickering hopes alive until the penultimate fixture, when they had all but gone before he arrived.
Muslic however (and I will apply full twenty-twenty hindsight here) was giving off the wrong vibes. Tetchy responses when asked his plans for next season. Evasive when asked to commit to returning. Openly unhappy that the club structure and support personnel left too much on his shoulders. A Clash was coming. Will he stay or will he go now?
Then the mood music changed. Football consultants, the Dickensian sounding Bromby and Partners were already beavering away behind the scenes. David Fox filled the vacant but modified Director of Football Operations role. Tom Randle, Miron’s ex Cercle Brugge data man arrived to lead recruitment analysis.
Then players, even before the window actually opened, all expressing delight to be joining Miron’s project. Paterson from Coventry, an experienced striker first, then Caleb Watts from up the A38, where the Honiton salt mines put on extra shifts to feed the angry Six Toe propaganda machine, which broke out their best crayons for their release.
Rumours of a left back, Jack Mackenzie, fresh from a cup final win in Scotland, having recovered from an ariel bombardment of a chair, despatched from the clubs Fair Play stand, but which, encouragingly for Argyle, he apparently headed clear.
Of course talk swirled. Moose said his farewells, seeking a higher level, with even talk of clubs in Germany (hmmmm) being interested. Bali possibly heading back to his North eastern roots with interest from the Green exiles community in Boro. Hardie in Championship demand as befitted his end of season form.
A pre-season camp in Innsbruck, Austria. Miron’s back yard. The Green Army could relax.
Then as I say. Boom.
No-one can deny that Schalke 04 are a massive club, despite languishing in Bundesliga 2 and having financial constraints. A stadium that would be the fourth largest in the Premier League were they to export it under Sir Kiers new European accord.
From the response by Argyle, it is clear they thought they had ridden out the storm. Provided Muslic with the requested infrastructure and indeed, early acquisition of players. Not enough it would seem.
Whilst the triggering of an apparent seven figure release clause means Argyle have no contractual leg to stand on, the fait accompli of the act means that once again we find ourselves entering a close season seeking to replace the manager, with uncertainty over the team that the departing incumbent was assembling still in place.
The unfollowing of the club he professed to “love” in his regular social media comms does little to endear Muslic to his jilted followers. The rumoured offering of an ”at a date to be determined” friendly with his new employers carries a smack of arrogance reminiscent of Real Madrid and their hissy fit on discovering Ian Holloway camping in their preferred hotel, the Schloss Piclarn, also in Austria.
All of which leaves Muslic looking more and more like a Bond villain, perched in his alpine lair, attending to his personal grooming whilst an army of black polo clad minions deliver his plans for European football domination.
Simon is therefore cast as the Judi Dench M replacement, with Parkinson as Q, once again seeking a replacement with a licence thrill. Since his arrival we have Adams (always start with a Scot), Lowe, Schumacher, Foster, Rooney and of course, Miron.
Which means his next appointment will, of course, be 007. Phew. Almost had me worried for a moment.
We already have an extensive pool of possible candidates, not all of whom are duff, although to be fair, two, Michael and Damien, are. Given the last two coaching arrivals have never featured in betting lists, it seems pointless to use the odds as a benchmark. As Mister Big said in Live and Let Die, “names is for tombstones, baby!”
With the new investment trail looking as likely as Goldfinger’s assault on Fort Knox (no, Simon, just no….) it leaves the Green Army, to paraphrase Mister White in Spectre, “ dancing like a kite in a hurricane.” Austria again. You would think we would have learned by now.
With new agents, sorry coaches, appearing, as Hugo Drax might have predicted with “the inevitability of an unloved season”, and we have all just had one of those, whoever is appointed will obviously have an impact on recruitment and playing style. Will it be a Rosa Klebb type with “training is useful, but there is no substitute for experience” or something more mercurial like Max Zorin with his “intuitive improvisation is the secret of genius”. GC is available. Just saying.
There is no quantum of solace in the fact that we are going through the process again. A club crying out for a few, OK, one would be nice, seasons of stability is once again looking for its team’s leader. The chances are we will have been banned from the League One Manager of the Month awards next season for having too many goes.
The time has past I feel for “you only live twice” and Schuey.
Shakespeare’s Macbeth said “if it were done when ’tis done then ‘twere well it were done quickly”. Argyle fans everywhere echo that sentiment, although with the desire for stability perhaps the urgings of rogue agent Raoul Julia from Skyfall would not be the best advice to our board.
“Do it. Do it. Only you can do it. Do it.”
As Hugo Drax put it in Moonraker, “First there was the dream. Now there is reality.”
What we really want though is a coach who no-one would ever be tempted to poach. Now, where did Andrew put Waynes number.
It is going to be a long summer.
COYG!!!!!!!
