Meanwhile tensions are rising at Spotland prior to their 28th "must win" match of the season.
Over to the changing rooms sponsored by Greggs.
"Bloomin eck Steve! Have you seen the stains on this shirt? I,ll never get those out on a 30 degrees quick spin. You know damn well from the accounts that we only have 2.5 million on deposit and I,m not allowed a 90 degree wash."
Steve carefully places his sausage roll down, unfortunately right on top of Keiths flat cap, and inspects the offending garment.
"Not guilty Jack, thats not pie juice, its that Herbylicious stuff. I won,t go near that stuff. Messes with your head. Makes you turn from butter would,nt melt into doing all sorts of unprofessional things. Look at that business with "Wanting When he should Score". "He only had one sniff and damn near took that defenders head off."
Jack pondered for a moment and held his hand up, brushing Steves knee.
"Apologies mate and fair do,s apart from the odd chilli pasty crumb, yours have been the cleanest shirts all season"
"Well thats very kind of you to say Jack but to be fair to the other lads I think Brown Rice could give me a run for my money, if not the clubs, and it is difficult to work a sweat up when your only getting substituted in the 86th minute.
Jack nods his head in agreement and inadvertantly impacts Steves patella. Steve winces and drops his economy pack jam doughnut. A big dollop of strawberry jam as unerring as a Done Deal injury time equalising header, lands on a discarded pair of Keiths jeans. Steve is not to concerned as the jeans are a pink relic of happier times.
Jack muses. "You know Steve, your right. I,ve been telling him for ages in the dug out, he should play you more often but he keeps looking round instead of down and thinks its one of those you know, what the call em, you know, help me out here Steve"
"You mean paying customers"?
"Yes thats right probably one of them cheapskate season ticket holders, not even a proper £22 fan". Anyway you know he won,t have any of that difference of opinion nonsense especially at a football match, so ends up whipping round and giving a section of the stand some verbals". Press box love it, but even I thought it was a bit much when some of the Directors thought it was a wheeze and jumped on the bandwagon".
At that moment he who must be obeyed, other than apparently for match instructions, bursts into the changing room, scattering 2 for 1 deals to the far corners. Not even an iced bun covered in hundreds and thousands could put a smile on the young Romanian sitting dejectedly in the shadows. Training had been a grueller that morning. Its no joke doing 250 runs in 90 minutes up and down the touch line and not being allowed to do one single step over.
He who must be obeyed doffs his cap with the half eaten sausage roll still perched on the crown and ushers everyone outside for more training. For the umpteenth time he hands out the booklets titled "Closing down a game for Dummies" and patiently explains to Mr T that the rules of the game do allow you after running to approach an opponent to then proceed to tackle the aforesaid opponent.
Steve unhappily trudges off to the treatment room for an inspection on his rapidly ballooning patella and Jack goes off to try some herbylicious as a stain remover.
Stop Press
I don,t want to heap more concern on the faithfull for Saturday but I have heard rumours that a certain agent Wabbit has been going round all week muttering "I,ll show him if I,m a defender and one of our own is adamant that the secret to last minute penalty taking is the delicate chip over the goalkeeper off the outside of the foot.
Up the Dale and keep the faith.
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