I took my seat, smiling from ear to ear as I drank water from the glass in front of me. I was asked the usual questions, about my ambitions for the club and my feelings on the new job. All the questions you expect to hear, delivered with the usual generic answer. There weren't many journalists, and I was wearing a suit not from Amarni, instead from the trusty Marks and Spencers - even that felt like a huge blow to the pocket in these times. The chairman happily answered questions, about why he appointed me and what he expects. As I looked into the eyes of the reporters,
I felt like I had 10 years ago. I felt like I did when I signed for Blackburn Rovers, with a few people looking to me as the next big thing following my switch from lowly Blackpool. However, I never made it onto the Ewood Park pitch I so often watched my heroes play on as a boy. My playing career was shortlived, ending at just 17 years of age. The less said about it the better, but I will never forget the day I suffered injuries that nearly lost me a leg, but did end my playing career. I will never forget the vision of seeing my bone poking out my sock, and I will never forget the day I found I would never play again...
I couldn't give the game up. I did my licenses and started coaching at a low level. Until I received a call, around a week ago, from a team sounding desperate for a manager. The call that could present me with a chance to do in management what injury prevented me doing as a player; be at the top level. And as I professed my ambitions in a cold, damp room in Blackpool, I smiled and knew this would be one hell of a ride...
sammiller added 13 Minutes and 26 Seconds later...
After the press conference I immediately jumped in my car and went to Yorkshire Fisheries, the place where John Prescott famously visited in the midst of his very public scuffle. I had a king size fish and chips and received a few polite "hello's" and "good lucks" from people inside. I'd visited Blackpool often as a kid and knew bits about it, often listening to countless tales of my Dad's childhood there. It was heartwarming to know that I would be managing the club my Dad played for as a reserve, at a ground where the statue of Sir Stanley Matthews stands aloft outside, a man my Dad met and had ultimate respect for.
I then took a casual drive down the Promenade, encountering numerous 'rock shops' and hotels which probably had their better years half a century ago. However, I couldn't ignore the charm this place held. From the large beach to the tacky illuminations, from the countless chippies to the proud, defiant tower, this place was a place I held in high esteem, and had no qualms about settling. I saw a lot of proud tangerine shirts amongst the people, and couldn't ignore the pride they held their club in.
The next day I visited the training ground, however didn't hold my first session. I noticed they weren't exactly of a great standard. I visited the two standed ground, which looked obsolete with two connected stands with just one other temporary away end. A vision popped into my head of one day having a large 20,000 capacity ground the people of Blackpool could be proud of.
I then walked into a board meeting to find out what my transfer budget for the following season would be...
I felt like I had 10 years ago. I felt like I did when I signed for Blackburn Rovers, with a few people looking to me as the next big thing following my switch from lowly Blackpool. However, I never made it onto the Ewood Park pitch I so often watched my heroes play on as a boy. My playing career was shortlived, ending at just 17 years of age. The less said about it the better, but I will never forget the day I suffered injuries that nearly lost me a leg, but did end my playing career. I will never forget the vision of seeing my bone poking out my sock, and I will never forget the day I found I would never play again...
I couldn't give the game up. I did my licenses and started coaching at a low level. Until I received a call, around a week ago, from a team sounding desperate for a manager. The call that could present me with a chance to do in management what injury prevented me doing as a player; be at the top level. And as I professed my ambitions in a cold, damp room in Blackpool, I smiled and knew this would be one hell of a ride...
sammiller added 13 Minutes and 26 Seconds later...
After the press conference I immediately jumped in my car and went to Yorkshire Fisheries, the place where John Prescott famously visited in the midst of his very public scuffle. I had a king size fish and chips and received a few polite "hello's" and "good lucks" from people inside. I'd visited Blackpool often as a kid and knew bits about it, often listening to countless tales of my Dad's childhood there. It was heartwarming to know that I would be managing the club my Dad played for as a reserve, at a ground where the statue of Sir Stanley Matthews stands aloft outside, a man my Dad met and had ultimate respect for.
I then took a casual drive down the Promenade, encountering numerous 'rock shops' and hotels which probably had their better years half a century ago. However, I couldn't ignore the charm this place held. From the large beach to the tacky illuminations, from the countless chippies to the proud, defiant tower, this place was a place I held in high esteem, and had no qualms about settling. I saw a lot of proud tangerine shirts amongst the people, and couldn't ignore the pride they held their club in.
The next day I visited the training ground, however didn't hold my first session. I noticed they weren't exactly of a great standard. I visited the two standed ground, which looked obsolete with two connected stands with just one other temporary away end. A vision popped into my head of one day having a large 20,000 capacity ground the people of Blackpool could be proud of.
I then walked into a board meeting to find out what my transfer budget for the following season would be...
