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Jack's Fables

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Something to crow about…

 

“We’re going nowhere and it’s time they all knew it. The only way for this club is down. I’m sick of the sham. Brace yourselves lads, 0-6 if we’re lucky.”

 

Jeff Nugget turned up four times a week on a wing and a prayer. He knew the game inside out, and was determined to get his side promoted to the next level. Like everyone, he had his favourites; but some who had the wrong colour eyes couldn’t care less. A few of those who were routinely ignored did wonders for team spirit.

 

Undeserved win one week, undeserved loss the next.

 

Nugget was a decent bloke. He cared. No-one knew him, and he knew they didn’t. Wasn’t sure about himself. Worked hard with the players. It was appreciated.

 

Fluke goal one week, brilliant goalless draw the next.

 

Feckless United had a web site. Half the players existed in name only. Most of them looked like the invisible man’s half-brother; silhouettes, ageless and without origin.

 

“We’re going up” chanted the half-dozen fans at half-time. “We’re going down” they chanted at full-time. At the next game, the fans began with “We’re going down” and finished with “We’re going up” at full-time after the team had scored in the last minute.

 

The new Chief Executive, Rick Steed was determined to change all this. He was very clear about what he wanted to do, and most important of all, believed in it.

 

Some players regularly went on the pitch believing they would lose. The times they won, having convinced themselves they would not, caused even more problems.

 

Nugget had a plan. He would ignore the fans’ chants. He would bring in new players. He would let some go. He would carry on doing what he had always done. He would ignore challenges to his right to manage. He would rotate his favourites. He would do the hokey-cokey and turn around.

 

Some players went on the pitch knowing the team would win. And they did. When they didn’t it caused no problems.

 

Steed knew Nugget could deliver, and he was going to give him every chance. Steed said very little, preferring his inner calm to set the tone and the context of his dealings with Nugget and players. Steed was a winner himself. He had created his business empire from scratch, adopting ‘treat others as you would yourself’ as his motto.

 

A town the size of Feckless could support a club in the higher reaches of the game. Towns slightly bigger than Feckless had teams in the Premier Trough. Feckless had all the attributes to be at the top table.

 

The problem was, Nugget didn’t think he could cut it. In his mind, one division higher was the goal, or just missing out on promotion. And he knew some of the players on the books at present couldn’t cut it one division higher either. So an unstated and unconscious conspiracy existed to preserve the status quo…

 

A strange phenomenon occurred at Gas Lane, the club’s ground. A large crow would appear at every home game, perch on the roof covering the ‘main stand’ and watch the game as if it knew every player’s thought and every action.

 

Unbeknown to Nugget and Steed, the crow was fed by several of the players, as they regarded him as a lucky omen. Nugget knew the crow was a curse.

 

Indeed Nugget was determined to have the crow removed, but he wasn’t stupid enough to make it obvious, fall foul of the local RSPCA, the local reporter and possibly one or two mad sods who actually welcomed his presence. The fans had mixed feelings; three of them hadn’t even noticed the bird.

 

Down the road from Gas Lane was EFFU [the world’s biggest supermarket chain]-sponsored Harlem Pineapples, HP. HP had, in comparison to Feckless United, money to burn. Feckless had been known as a town famous for its asbestos manufacture, and HP were known previously as ‘the Tumours’, an obvious if sick connection to the town’s biggest employer.

 

Subconsciously, visiting teams had reservations about coming to Feckless, as it was rumoured the air was full of asbestos fibre, something vociferously denied by Styx Industries, who made the ‘environmentally friendly’ toxic substance. Feckless had the highest bronchitis and cancer rates in the country, but it was put down to the weather, a low take up of flu jabs, and the high number of smokers in the town. Every so often, cars would be covered by emissions from the Styx chimneys. It would strip the paint down to the bare metal.

 

Styx had for years also denied it was their fault, blaming other companies in the area, and the corrosive excrement of crows, who had been eating things they shouldn’t. However, when the local council had proved beyond doubt the source of the problem was indeed Styx, they just paid any complainant out of court.

 

No-one had made the connection between a high number of car body shops in the vicinity of Styx, or that the parent company of two ‘trendy’ undertakers [Go Now! & Pay Later!] directly opposite the plant was indeed Styx itself. Or that the life expectancy of Hades, Styx and Death Street residents was 36.

 

Steed had a good relationship with Harlem Pineapples. And why not? He could never see the point of creating unnecessary conflict. Having HP and FU at the top of their respective games could only do well for Feckless. And Feckless had a reputation beyond the shores of the toxic lake the company [Styx] had created in mid-Wales.

 

Nugget had hatched another plan. He would ‘play ball’ with the crow until something damning could be directly attributed to it. But part of him wanted the crow to help him and become his lucky omen. He fleetingly saw himself as a successful manager, but couldn’t get an enduring image of failure out of his head. He saw the crow gloating over his dead body…

 

No, crows were bad news. Nugget had to act before the bird became a local, then national celebrity.

 

For reasons no-one could explain, Feckless started winning games. Nugget was being linked with a number of clubs in divisions above the one he had set as his own personal ceiling. At least five fans had now noticed the crow. Time was of the essence.

 

Nugget possessed animal cunning. He planned to have the crow shot, and replaced with a stuffed one. It could become FU’s mascot, but the curse would be lifted. By the time the last fan had noticed, FU would be in a higher division, or just miss out on promotion.

 

The crow had other ideas. He would not allow himself to be shot. His plan was to watch FU get promotion, and as a result see Nugget be ‘headhunted’ by Luddite Wanderers. Given that Styx blamed crows for their car paint stripping prowess, to have FU adopt a crow as their mascot and make the link to a company producing deadly products was not a good idea either. The crow would have to leave.

 

Over the remainder of the season, the players were struggling to cope with ‘too many’ wins.

 

“The problem you lot have,” declared Nugget to the first team one day, “Is that you are getting too big for your boots. We cannot afford to replace every player’s boots. So, when you go out tomorrow, remember to keep in mind the state of your boots if you make too many tackles, hit too many shots, or run too many yards. Do I make myself clear?”

 

“Yes boss” was the half-hearted response from the team.

 

Steed was present at the ‘pep-talk’ and nearly fell over when he heard Nugget tell the players to effectively play at half throttle. He saw the sun falling slowly down behind the man stand. The crow perched on top if it appeared motionless, but Steed thought it was him, still reeling from what he had just witnessed. But he would have to keep an eye on Mr Nugget.

 

At the end of the season, Nugget decided to leave, promotion having been achieved. The club had won in other ways too. The fair play award. A good ’cup’ run. Several players had been ‘poached’ by other clubs, and their sale had brought in thousands to the club coffers.

 

The six campaign-weary fans had noticed the bird had gone. One night the stuffed replacement had fallen off the stand and into a skip. Nugget has seen the stuffed crow in the skip before anyone else, and had buried it under rubble.

 

After the euphoria, there was a strong feeling of deja-vu in Feckless. FU had got promotion. FU had lost a good manager. FU had lost some of their best players.

 

Steed knew different. FU had got promotion. FU had lost a manager. FU had made a fortune out of selling their ‘best’ players. Next season, FU would get promotion again. FU will get a new manager. FU have got the best players they have ever had.

 

Nugget was driving to Luddite after a dinner in his honour. He had mixed feelings as ever.

 

“What if I had stayed, maybe we could get promotion to the league next season. Maybe I could have come clean. Maybe I could have got to know the players better. Maybe I could have found out what I don’t know.”

 

And as he turned into Luddite’s ground, Suffragette City, he noticed a large crow, perched high on the main stand. The bird seemed to wink at him.

 

Next season, Feckless got promotion again. Team spirit amongst the players was legendary in the lower leagues. Some players had become local celebrities, did amazing work for charity and one of them was tipped to be Feckless’s next manager. Home crowds grew; attendance was now ten times that of Luddite Wanderers, who had enjoyed crowds in the high hundreds.

 

A whole flock of crows sat on the stand during every home game at Green Lane [FU had moved to a new stadium].

 

FU players felt wanted and recognised for their contribution. Harlem Pineapples were even more successful too.

 

Life-expectancy rates started to climb. Despite Styx being the town’s biggest employer, they had difficulty in recruiting people to die ‘on the job’ slumped over an acid bath. Asbestos had lost its appeal to third world countries, and Styx’s Feckless factory eventually shut down. Even Styx’s funeral businesses went.

 

A petition was organised by Hades, Styx and Death Street residents to not only change the name of their streets, but that of the town. A poll was conducted. Nugghetto got the fewest votes. In the end, an exotic name no-one knew [but sounded wonderful] was chosen ‘Corvus Corone.’

Corvus Corone, jewel of the north…

 

JS, September 2008.

 

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