Off the Pitch, It's All on the Chairman
England Premier League Round 10. Home at Ewood Park. Vs West Ham United.
"Viva Blackburn!"
Raising beer cups with the 20,000 fans at Ewood Park, singing their praises!
"Mr. Lee, total domination!"
Watching from the bench block closest to the pitch—not the VIP seats—had its own thrill. Mingling with the fans, standing the whole match buzzing with adrenaline. Sipping beers now and then, arm-in-arm belting out the anthem Wild Rovers, piling into group hugs after every goal.
"That Swedish lad was worth every penny!"
"Better than Kevin Phillips, even."
"I told you my eye never fails!"
Larsson exploded today. Two in the first half, one in the second—a Premier League hat-trick in his debut season against West Ham.
And it wasn't just Larsson. The whole squad erupted. Beattie with one, Figo one goal and two assists, Baggio one, Duff one goal and one assist. A whopping 7-1 thrashing!
After 10 rounds, 8 wins, 1 draw, 1 loss—25 points, clear leaders.
Second place went to Leeds, who despite missing Champions League last season, started hot with 22 points. Manchester United, usually streaking to the top with win streaks, sat third on 20.
"Lads, you were brilliant today!"
As the players headed to the locker room after waving to the fans, they spotted me up in the stands and waved back.
"Boss, you look even better up close!"
Gattuso flashed double peace signs, bouncing like a kid, while Larsson trailed behind, flashing three fingers for his hat-trick.
The fans trickled out happy, cleanup wrapped up, and as I exited Ewood Park, reporters swarmed from behind.
"Mr. Lee, a quick word?"
"Yupp just gives textbook answers. Blackburn stories need to come from you."
"Confident about the title this season?"
Reporters shoved mics at me instead of the manager. Maybe I should tell Heynckes, 'Do some fireworks with Ferguson or Wenger, show some showmanship to the press, and I'll throw in a bonus.'
"Well, with the on-pitch form this good, even the chairman's thrilled."
"Larsson's been phenomenal this season."
"Right? Seven goals in 10 games. Golden Boot's in play."
Stuff Heynckes could answer himself—nothing weird there.
"Mr. Lee, year four for you. Ambitions beyond the league?"
"A club beyond clubs."
"!?"
"Ah, that's Barcelona? Galaxy something... Real's Galacticos. Red Devils copying Man United. We need our own bold vision for the club's ideal."
As the reporters leaned in intrigued, it hit me.
"Blackburn is Only One Team!"
They scribbled furiously amid flashing cameras. Special One, Normal One? Way cooler with just One.
Ahead of the next Champions League match against Boavista, a player showed up.
"Said I'd meet anyone to talk things out, but skipping the manager to come straight to me? Didn't see that coming."
"Talked to the gaffer first, then came to you, Boss."
"Alright then, speak up, Martin."
Martin Taylor. One of Blackburn's rare local boys from youth to first team, alongside James Beattie. A sturdy 193cm, 98kg defender prospect, but as the season wore on, his minutes dwindled—he could barely make the bench.
"Boss, got called up for U-21s, but no starts at club level. It's tough."
"Time to show off that solid frame, eh?"
"Don't Youpp says learn under Melberg."
True, our backline was stacked with giants. With Southgate, Melberg, Berg, Richard Dunne rotating center-back with Thuram too, he was fifth or sixth choice.
"Martin, I don't sell our local lads cheap. For now, prove it like James Beattie."
"Can you put in a word for a chance with Yupp?"
"Can't meddle in lineups—that's the manager's call."
"Boss..."
"I'll tell him to look after our local boys. At least 10 games this season. Champs League, EFL Cup, FA Cup, league—tons of fixtures, so hang in there."
"Damn, got a wedding to prep next year."
"Gifts and venue? On me. Bring the fiancée by to say hi."
If they have a son, Caleb Taylor it is.
After soothing Martin out the door, I sat back. Moments later, a knock—senior coach Brian Kidd entered.
"Brian, something up with the team?"
"Got an offer from Leeds."
"!"
"Senior coach there. Wondering if it's time to go."
Brian Kidd, senior coach through Dalglish and Heynckes eras. When Heynckes built his staff, bringing Peter Hermann as personal coach, they made it co-senior setup—but Hermann handled all tactics.
"Brian, we still need you. Name your terms."
"Room for me on the first-team stage?"
"Take over the youth team."
"!"
"Salary: Leeds' senior offer plus 50%. Develop our prospects."
"Hmm."
Brian pondered jumping from first-team senior coach to U-20 youth boss.
"Martin Taylor was just here—our youth local boy struggling for starts."
"He's been short on minutes lately."
"Our academy lads need inspiration from promoted seniors to dream big."
We'd brought in youths like James Milner, Glen Johnson—needed experts to nurture them.
"Run the youth team. Split the scout/youth coach role Hobson's juggling."
Brian mentioned scouting too, negotiated pay, and left smiling.
Beyond that, checked stadium expansion mid-season, finalized Umbro sponsorship with player picks for Blackburn Umbro CF models—tons handled.
Champions League Boavista? 2-0 win, cruising group stage.
"Mr. Lee, seen the Spanish papers?"
"Out of nowhere?"
Reporters mobbed me on arrival, mics out.
"Spanish press all saying 'Figo to Real after this season.' True?"
"Who the hell—!"
"Real's Florentino Perez said it himself in an interview."
"Talk started pre-Barça to Blackburn transfer, right?"
"Figo skipping Barça straight to Real, Blackburn just a pit stop?"
Perez, that old fox, now?
"Everyone spouts nonsense sometimes. Guess Real's chairman's bored with life. Dropping BS about another league's team mid-season."
"Just rumors?"
"Want to focus on Blackburn's season. Leading the league draws the rattlesnakes."
Interview done, back to the office, pulled up Spanish articles on the computer.
Dialed Spain immediately.
"Shaking players mid-season like this? Way over the line, Perez."
"Wasn't that the original plan? You've been so quiet, thought you'd forgotten our deal."
"Deal was 'Figo transfer during your term.' Yours ends next year?"
"Post your country's World Cup, right? Less than a year left."
"Not repeating myself—drop Figo talk mid-season. Looks like you're gunning to rattle us."
"Me? I'm fascinated by your team stealing Ferguson the old man's spot in England."
"Real president, mind Real."
"Señor Lee, after this season, Real's number 10 is Figo's."
Hung up, lit a smoke. La Liga now? Barça and Real, the big two, flailing mid-table 4th-5th. Valencia top, Deportivo second. No wonder Perez delusionally blamed "lack of players" for no title.
Hurt feelings? We'll make him pay top dollar!
Or re-sign and dump him mid-30s at term's end.
League cruising, Champs safe from early exit. External noise? League leaders attract snakes.
Chairman can't let this slide.
"Get Sky Sports on the line."
"Yes, Boss."
Grabbed the receiver, called the Sky team.
"Oh, Mr. Lee. What's up?"
"Weird Spanish stories. Run one piece for me."
"Figo-related?"
"Headline as I say: 'Real Lagging Valencia and Deportivo? Not Squad or Manager—It's the Chairman's Weird Roster Building.' Hit 'em with it."
"Going to war with Real, eh?"
"Zidane-Fabio policy? Our youth Martin Taylor's 100x better than Real's Fabios! Add that."
Enjoy tomorrow's headlines, Perez—or the evening edition.