The Broom Of Doom
The dressing room was awash with shouting, laughter, champagne and beer. Shouts and singing of delight. Promotion has been gained following a superb performance out on the pitch, and the big time beckons. The players mob Ron Smith, mercurial manager, and shower him with expensive bubbles.
“Don’t worry boss, you can afford another sheepskin now!” The promise of the big bucks in the top flight, along with the post-match adrenaline has everyone jabbering excitedly.
“GET IN!” screams Smith, “Now they’ll finally let me buy some real players!”
* * *
In all the hundreds of interviews Smith makes a point of talking about the collective effort, he mentions pretty much every player by name, underlining their importance. Of course internally he is planning, chopping, ringing the changes. Most of these players won’t cut it a level above, and although he’s made assurances to them all he knows most will have to go. Sold to teams in this division, even the lower ones maybe. Most still don’t realise that this was the high point of their careers already. Ron won’t need to tell them of course, the agents can do that.
Not for Smith though, the Board has hinted at extra cash for rebuilding a team, a team worthy of the highest league, a team worthy of Smith. He has his ideas, dream players, and more realistically players who will come. His master plan is well and truly being sorted, the tactics, the new team, at least to stay up next year, then build. He can’t wait. The TV, the press, his salary, the stadiums, the famous old teams; everything is bigger and better, an unmistakable Big Step Up. He’ll miss most of the lads, of course; it’s shame for them.
* * *
The chairman has called him in, and Ron is ready. He has all his “wish list” players, he has his plans and thoughts, the new coaches he’ll need under him. He’s building an empire here, a dynasty. He can’t wait to get down to brass tacks with Chris Ingleton, the wealthy, charismatic chairman. They’ve always had a great relationship. Together they are rebuilding this club as one of the Big Boys. This is the next step of something huge, this meeting will be the start of a new era.
And so it proved.
“Thank you for your service, Ron” said Ingleton, warmly, shaking his hand, “It’s been a wonderful ride. I’ve noticed and am impressed by your loyalty to the team, these players. But really, are they good enough for the next level?”
“Well, I wanted to talk to you about that;” started Smith. Ingleton held up a broad palm to quiet him,
“I know, I know, Ron, they are a great bunch of lads, and deserve their reward. But in all honesty we need changes, big changes. I admire you standing by them, but we need a new broom here. We need to cut the ties. Yes, a new broom is needed, someone without the emotional attachment to this group. Thanks again for everything you’ve done for the club, Ron. And good luck for the future.”
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This follows the daily prompts for a ten minute write from Putting My Feet In The Dirt The idea is to use the prompt and write for ten minutes only. Which is what I did, prompted by the words The Broom Of Doom
My other stuff is over on the Dead Deer Blog