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New Bosh Times! Ollie returns... 18:51 - Nov 21 with 2598 views

Bosh Times gets an exclusive with returning Rs boss, Ollie Holyway.

“Well, of course, nothing much has changed,” Holyway explains, looking across Loftus Road and pointing at things. “The stands, the seats, the pitch, the goal posts, the grass, the roof, the sky, the clouds, the stars. It’s all much the same here. Only thing that’s changed is that this time most of the hair on my head is now camped around my face. It’s migrated south. Either that or I am standing on my head?” He leans to one side and looks up. “No, I am definitely the right way up.”

I ask him what he feels he will need to change in his second spell at the club? He takes a deep breath.
“Well.” he says, looking around, “the main thing is to get the crowds up here. I mean look at it. Look at it. It’s bloody terrible, isn’t it? There are 1…2… 3… I don’t know, but there are no more than 5 people in the whole ground.”
“It’s Wednesday morning at 8.30am Ollie,” I remind him. He looks perplexed for a second, and then more hopeful.
“Oh yes,” he agrees. “That would explain it… Mind you, for Christ sake… 5 people and we are only 3 and a half days away from kick off. It’s shameful really.”

I ask him what he has learnt during his ten years away from the club.
“I’ve mainly learnt that you go through life making mistakes. For example, I didn’t realise that gardening leave didn’t mean I wasn’t going to be a gardener. But that’s football, innit? I mean I made mistakes at Leicester. I made mistakes at Blackpool. Same at Crystal Palace and Millwall. I’ve made mistakes at all them clubs. And what I’ve learnt from all that is consistency. If you are going to make mistakes, you have to make them consistently. So, you could say it’s like I may not be the best in the bedroom, but I’ve still banged plenty of birds, even if most of them were mingers.
And I mean that in the most respectful way. You climb out of bed and afterwards you can have a bit of an itch. Now, you don’t like that itch. But when it’s gone, you know, you want to experience that unpleasant sensation again. So, what I am trying to say is that football is a bit like an STD. You may get cured of it from time to time, but it will always come back to haunt you. So, that’s why I’ve come back here. To haunt this place, with my itchy balls.”

I ask him about his unusual practices, including showing the squad a film on the first day of training.
“Why did you show them Shawshank Redemption?”
“Well,” Ollie replies. “To be honest, I was trying to find my copy of Mighty Ducks, but I think it must be in the loft or something. I spent an age trying to find that bloody DVD and in the end I was running late. Shawshank Redemption was on the coffee table, so I just picked that up.”
“But what do you think it teaches them?” I ask.
“Well, to be honest, you look around and you ask the lads, do you want to be an average player, or a mighty duck? I know what I would prefer to be. I mean it’s obvious isn’t it?”
“And what do you think Shawshank Redemption taught them?”
“I don’t know really. It probably taught them not to end up in prison. Or try and escape through a crap shoot in the rain.”
“And you think that helps them?”
“Well, to be fair, it was meant to be Mighty Ducks. I mean that’s a bloody excellent movie. The only other thing on the table was Independence Day 2 and that’s absolute rubbish. I mean what does that teach you? Don’t piss off aliens? I don’t know. You can’t run on to a pitch worrying about aliens, can you?”

I catch up with him after Saturday’s game and ask him about the win over Norwich.
“We made it tough for ourselves. They go down to ten men after one minute. That’s tough on them. As a manager, your heart kind of goes out to your opposite number. But, then, when you have composed yourself, you have to think…. It’s Norwich. The other ten players are still related to each other. They may be down a man but each one of them has got seven toes on both feet and they can still welly a football. Their sisters and wives, and in some cases it’s the same person, are up there in that School End stand, cheering them on. That’s hardcore, innit? Norwich has a proud club history. They go back to 1902 and that is a long time. Fast forward to now in Norfolk and although it’s still 1974 over there, that’s still a long time. So if I wore a hat I would take it off to them. But I don’t. So I won’t.”

I ask Ollie about working with Birch.
“He’s QPR through and through. You cut him in half and it’s blue and white hoops, innit. Well, more like blood, guts, bone tissue, flesh, brain matter and all that. I didn’t realise it was a metaphorical saying. Took me ages to clean up the Black & Decker after that. Fortunately he doesn’t hold a grudge. Well, he can’t at the moment anyway. Not until I sew his arms back on.”

I ask him if he has a message for the fans in the lead up to the away game at Ipswich.
“Well,” he replies. “We are back in Norfolk, ploughing the tractor bound furrows of Portman Road. Look, it won’t be easy. It’s more seven toed lads to get our heads around. And as it is 1974 in that part of the world they will be wearing those short shorts and that could be distracting. But we will go there and we will put on a performance. It may be an attacking one, it may be a poetic one, it may be a dramatic one, or it may even be a ballet. Who knows, but it will be a performance. I mean, look at Sandra’s beard yesterday. If that ain’t Shakespeare, I don’t know what is?”

There is a tear in his eye. Thinking about seeing the fans again yesterday? I ask.
“It was highly emotional. I didn’t want to come out and look like an idiot. I wanted to look smart with something brown and indistinguishable smudged on the left buttock of my trousers, and I think I achieved that. But it was one hell of a moment. To hear those fans singing, We’ve got our Rangers back, Ollie out and you’re getting sacked in the morning, well, it brings a lump to your trousers don’t it. That’s what QPR is all about. Fans that get behind the team for at least an hour before telling you that you don’t know what you’re doing. But, I can tell you this. I am back and I am here to stay. They (the board) will have to prize this job away from my cold dead hands if they want to, and even then they couldn’t. They may sack me one day, or move me on, or put me back in the garden, but I will be there. I may be lifeless, I may look like a zombie, bits may be falling off me, I may even smell a bit, or even a lot, but when those lads are in the changing room or out on the pitch, there I will be, rigid, with a cold lifeless stare, egging them on, you know. I’m not costing the board much so the least they could do is stuff me and wheel me out if it comes to that. But, that’s how committed I am. Or how committed I should be. And I have a doctor’s letter to prove it.”