As I wrote previously, I have started to loathe our strikers at Hapoel Ashkelon FC. Their profligacy. Even worse, their lack of movement, which reignites the anger that I developed watching Izale McLeod play for Notts County. Izzie, we have showers in the changing room: it’s OK to break sweat, really.
I get even more irate when I call them out and they each tell me they think they’ve been playing well. I’d hate to see what one of their off-days looks like in that case.
I take Lassina Dao, our young Ivorian poacher (can you even be called a poacher if you can’t hit a barn door? Or a barn, come to that), aside.
He’s just arrived from Kazakhstan, so won’t want to leave, so I try what I now think of the Buzagli gambit: I tell him he won’t be registered for our Premier League squad.
Just as Buzagli did, he throws a wobbly.
Almost as soon as he’s out the door, the faxes go out. And the offers come in. Some teams in Kazakhstan (haven’t they seen him play?) want to insert a clause into our loan contract, permitting him to play against us.
I’ll take the risk.
When one of these offers goes through, we’ll have the dosh to bring in another striker.
