[Poolie Exile]

In at the Deep End

Chapter One: In the beginning

It's a typical summer afternoon after school in Hartlepool. The year is 1984, and eight lads are on Grayfields Recreation Grounds. Suddenly, the tallest of them speaks:

"Come on, fancy a game of football? I got a ball."

Six of them agree, but one shakes his head. He is the most intellectually looking of the eight, and doesn't seem interested at all. The first lad speaks to him:

"Mark, what's up with ya? Don't you want to have a kickabout with us?"

Mark speaks.

"Not really Nick, I'm not interested in football.."
"Not interested in football? You're having a laugh aren't you? You go to watch Pools and now you're not interested in playing a quick game with yer mates. Don't believe this.."
"I'm not, and that's the end of it. Understand?"
"Come on, Mark please. We need an extra player to make it equal sides."
"OK, this time I'll play but next time I won't. Got it?"

The rest of the lads nodded. However, after only 10 minutes it was clear there was something special on those green pastures. Mark was standing out by a mile, all tricks and skill. The other lads just simply couldn't keep pace with him. All of a sudden, a car pulled up and a gentleman got out. It was clear he was into football as he was just stood there notebook in hand. The ball rolled in his direction, and Mark chased after it.

"Excuse me mister, can you pass me the ball please?" Mark asked.
"Sure, there you are." the man replied, and chucked the ball back into Mark's waiting hands.
"Cheers."
"What's yer name son?"
"Mark Duell, why like?"
"Do you play for a team?"
"Well, I am a regular sub for my school team."
"When are you next playing?"
"Erm, tomorrow on here at 3.30pm."
"See you then."

The man got back in his car, and a still perplexed Mark ran back to his mates.

"What he want like?" Nick asked.
"God knows, apart from when the school team plays again."
"Probably one of those weirdos."
"Aye. Anyway, next goal winner ain't it?"

And so they carried on and on until dusk, but little did Mark know something was going to change in his life...

This post has been edited by Poolie Exile: 07 February 2008 - 07:38 PM

[Mr Willy]

It's great to hear that my favourite writer isn't being beaten yet.

[Poolie Exile]

In at the Deep End

Chapter Two: School Days

As Mark made his way back home that evening, his thoughts were still pre-occupied with "that" meeting. Beside him, Nick walked - ball in hand.

"Did you know that man Mark?" Nick asked.
"Did I hell, never seen him ever before."
"Strange, and even stranger that he asked when the school football team was playing?"
"I wouldn't worry about it mate, it's as you said earlier..probably one of them weirdos!"
"Aye, probably."

So they got home, and decided to meet up again at school in the morning. Morning came, and again sun was streaming through blue skies. As soon as they got into school, Mark and Nick made their way towards the notice board where all the sports teams were listed. Mark gasped...

"Seen that mate, I'm playing this afternoon. First start!"
"Aye, and in central midfield too."
"So I am."
"And look at what's written next to your name too."

Mark edged closer and looked at the sheet of paper.

Quote

8. Mark Duell CAPTAIN

"I'm skippering the team as well. Oh my God!"
"Take it pal, you can't do any worse than Stevie..."

So the time came around, and it was soon match time. Leading out his mates, and for that matter the honour of the school, Mark proudly took to the field. Spotting his auntie and uncle on the sideline, whom he lived with, he noticed the bloke from yesterday as well - again with notebook in hand. Non-plussed however, he put that to the back of his mind and set about playing his own game. Midway through the second half, with the team leading 3-0, Mark picked up the ball just outside his own penalty area. Playing a quick one-two with Nick, he set off towards goal. Inside a matter of seconds, he had cut through the opposing defence like knives through butter. Suddenly, there was just the keeper to beat. Do I chip him, do I shoot now, do I take around him? Choices in Mark's head. He chose the latter and with a quick feint to the left totally bewildered the custodian and rolled the ball with ease into the empty net to complete a sensational hat-trick on his first full game for the side.

The man noted this, and started to walk towards Mark's sports master. Mark, despite being swamped with plaudits from his team-mates, noticed it. The two men talked, and as soon as the final whistle shrilled after a 6-0 win: Mark was beckoned forth.

"You've got the gift." The man said.
"Eh?" replied a bemused Mark.
"This man thinks you've have the talent to make it, and he is a well known figure in North-East football." replied Mark's Sports Master.
"Ah right."
"The name's Hixon son, Jack Hixon. Pleased to meet you Mark."

[Poolie Exile]

In at the Deep End

Chapter Three: A Step in the Right Direction

So that who the man was, Mark being Mark had never heard of him. After the formalities had been done, Mark stepped in the showers and cleaned himself up - washing the mud off his body. Whilst getting changed, he could hear the rumblings of voices in the hallway, four voices in fact: his Sports Master, Jack Hixon and also his Auntie Linda and Uncle Ron. He was intrigued to say the least. Suddenly Nick nudged him in the upper arm.

"Who is he then like?" Nick asked.
"Some bloke called Jack Hixon, never heard of him to be honest." was the reply.
"Never heard of Jack Hixon!" Stevie shouted.
"Aye never heard of him, and anyway why should I have? Is he anything special like?"
"Of course, he is a football scout - a famous one at that."
"Which one?"
"Burnley."
"Burnley? Who wants to play for a side like bloody Burnley?" Nick asked.
"Aye but, he's got contacts around other sides too." Stevie replied.
"Anyway, I'll see you all tomorrow morning lads at school." Mark said, putting his school blazer back on and making his way out of the changing room - sports bag over his left shoulder.
"Ah here's he is..." Jack Hixon said, spotting Mark.
"We've being waiting for you." Uncle Ron said.

With that, the five people made their way into an empty classroom, and sat around the teacher's desk. Mark, his Uncle Ron and Auntie Linda one side; and on the other Jack Hixon and the Sports Master. Jack was straight down the line with the words..."I want Mark to join Burnley on school forms, providing you can get him there on Saturdays." Mark just sat there stunned, just like Ron and Linda. This was a chance, could this be what might want to be? He always wanted to be a professional footballer, even though his real ability was shining through in Music.

"You are serious Mr Hixon?" Auntie Linda asked.
"I am, he's got it. Just bring him over to Burnley's football ground Saturday morning at 10:00am."
"Consider it done."

With that Jack Hixon left the classroom, and departed the school grounds. Mark was still stunned, his face a picture of pure bewilderment.

"Come on lad," Uncle Ron said, "Time to go home and phone your Mam and Dad about it."

Turf Moor: Home of new Dreams?

[Zog]

awesome start mate i like the whole childhood days thing makes it much more realistic and almost like an autobiography

[Shedender]

I'm delighted. The best story on the scene has made a return since it's disappearance. :cool:

[Poolie Exile]

I wasn't going to let some imbecile ruin it, even though I've lost the initial 11 page epic.

Have already planned the story out. So watch this space folks!

* Thanks for the kind support so far everyone!

Mark

[Freddy23]

This is truely brilliant i love this ill read KIU!

[Poolie Exile]

In at the Deep End

Chapter Four: Claret and Blue Boy

At 7am on Saturday morning, Mark was in a deep sleep - dead to the world in fact so to speak. Suddenly, his bedroom door squeaked open and his Uncle Ron stood there looking at him before yelling:

"Get up young man, time to go to Burnley!"
"Huh? What you on about? Let me sleeeeep." Mark responded, wearily as if he hadn't slept all night.
"Sorry lad, time you were up - we've got to be in Burnley for 10 o'clock."
"Why? Who said we were going there like?"
"You know why, just get yerself out of that bed...NOW!"
"OK."

And so Mark hauled his frame out of his bed, and headed out towards the bathroom. Luckily, it was empty... Ten minutes later after a quick wash and brushing of his teeth - he walked back to his bedroom and put on a clean set of clothes. A freshly ironed T-shirt, and clean jeans will do the trick along with clean underpants and socks. Sorted, and down the stairs where Uncle Ron was waiting in the living room.

"What we going to Burnley for?" Mark asked.
"Well, today's the day you sign schoolboy forms there me lad." was the reply.
"Eh? I don't understand."
"You impressed Burnley's scout in the week, so today you've got to be down there to sign schoolboy forms."
"Oh right, does this mean I am going to be living away from home?"
"Usually, but we've come to some arrnagement that you can complete studies here as long you go down there for matches and training."
"Ok, suppose we best get going then."
"You ready?"
"Suppose so."

At 9:45am the car pulled into the Car Park in deepest Lancashire. Uncle Ron had told him about Burnley Football Club in depth as they drove down, and that Mark was following a path that Ralph Coates did beforehand. Ralph Coates was midfielder, just like Mark, who hailed from the North-East (Hetton Le Hole to be precise) and was discovered by Jack Hixon and went on to be a Burnley legend. Could there be a similar path forming?

Shortly afterwards, a silver haired gentleman approached them.

"Is this Mark?"

Mark nodded, his Uncle smiling.

"My name is John Benson, I am the manager here at Burnley and I hereby welcome you to the club. Jack Hixon has told me loads about you, so I suppose we best get you signed up."

Within ten minutes everything was finalised, and after a quick walk around the ground Mark was now an associate schoolboy with Burnley. Now it was just up to Mark to live up to the expectation...

Ralph Coates - Burnley legend. Is Mark going to follow suit?

[Poolie Exile]

In at the Deep End

Chapter Five: Rejected

As Mark and his Uncle Ron made the drive back to Hartlepool, thoughts were crossing Mark's mind. He couldn't wait to tell his mates what had happened to him, and this after only a handful of games for his school team. That was something to be proud of, and he knew that his family were equally as. The afternoon was spent as normal watching Hartlepool United, and watching them play in the then Fourth Division. Nick and the others were at the game, but Ron advised Mark to keep quiet even though he was constantly being quizzed over it.

"Come on Mark, what's happened?" Nick asked.
"Nothing, just that the Hixon bloke reckons I got a bit of skill. That's all." came back Mark's response.
"Yeah sure, he's a football scout for God's sake. You getting signed up by someone aren't yer?"
"Nope, I'd miss the town and you lot for starters. Unless he's got contacts at Pools..."
"OK, I believe ya. Others wouldn't."

Come Monday, he could tell them. The reaction was one of pure amazement, even loudmouth Stevie was for once lost for words. The headmaster even made a big deal out of it in assembly which embarassed Mark no end, he was no wishing it had never happened. But Nick's calming influence soon steadied Mark, he was his best mate and one person Mark could always talk to about this, that and in fact everything.

As the months passed on, Mark was enjoying the Burnley experience and it was making him a better player all round. His decision making had improved as well as the technical aspects of the game, he was coming along leaps and bounds and the people at Burnley were impressed with the talent that they had got on their hands. One Saturday morning, Burnley were facing Blackburn in a local derby and in the changing room the team manager spoke to each player in turn before delivering his general team talk:

"...Mark - as my midfield general I want you to carry on with the standards you have set so far. Pass the ball, look for options but don't be afraid to shoot. However, watch out for their number six though as he's a tough tackling kid..."

Mark listened intently.

The game was in its final 5 minutes with Burnley 3 goals to the good, they had given their local rivals the run around. Mark was on the ball just inside the Blackburn half when THUD, SNAP! Burnley were incensed, the Blackburn number six had just clattered Mark and done him good...Ron looked on the sideline forlornly! This was serious. Rightly, the referee sent the offender off but there was no sorry from him as Mark was placed on the stretcher; his face contorted in pain. Hospital confirmed the worse, broken tibia and fibula. Nine months out...

When Mark returned to the side, he was not the same player. The pace had gone, and every challenge was being shied away from. Mark just hoped that the Burnley managment weren't noticing. Problem was, they were and it came to a head three weeks later when Mark was called into the office. The manager sat Mark and his Uncle down and in one sentence shattered everything:

"Sorry Mark, but we're gonna have to release you."

The dream looked dead, even Jack Hixon was stunned when he found out. So much for wanting to be a professional footballer...

http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:BVRb1hKdM9Z-yM:http://orthopedics.about.com/library/xrayimages/fxaptibfib.jpg
Mark suffered an injury like this

[dalibor13]

Absolutely brilliant!
When will you continue?

[Zog]

jack hixon? the bloke who unearthed Shearer

[Poolie Exile]

[quote name='The Zog' post='592397' date='Feb 8 2008, 04:28 PM']jack hixon? the bloke who unearthed Shearer [/quote]

The very same!

[Ferenczi]

Great start Mark. Had a feeling tragedy would be round the corner

Kiu, this is great

[Poolie Exile]

[font="Impact"][size=5]In at the Deep End[/size][/font]

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Chapter Six: A Second Chance

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Coming back from Burnley was a solemn experience, devastating to be brutally honest. Neither Mark nor Ron spoke, it was just pure silence. How was Mark or for his Uncle for that matter, going to break the news to the others - namely Auntie Linda, Mark's parents, Nick, the list went on... It was just an unpleasant feeling and Mark’s stomach wretched whilst tears slid down his face. How could Burnley do this to me, Mark thought to himself. The hate didn’t end there; he also hated the player who ruined his dream. What am I going to do now, football is my life…

The news broke, and sympathies were abounding like it was no tomorrow. Nick, being Nick, was the first to offer his and promised to help Mark get through the trauma.

“What am I going to do mate?” Mark asked him.
“I wish I knew pal, but don’t worry something good will happen to you now.”
“I wish.”
“It will, I firmly think for every piece of bad news then some good news will surely follow.”
“Hope you’re right bud.”
“I’m always right, and I know you too well.”

Despite the setback, Mark still continued to play for the school team. At least they knew what he was capable of. One evening, Mark and the lads were having a kickabout when Auntie Linda shouted in the distance:

“Mark, come home quick! Telephone call!”

Nick hurried Mark off, and he dashed home where Uncle Ron was holding the telephone for Mark to take off him.

“Hello.” Mark answered.
“Hello, is that Mark?” came back the voice from the other end.
“Yes, who’s this?”
“Mark, this is Willie McFaul. You have heard of me – haven’t you?”
“Your name rings a bell somewhere but I can’t place it.”
“I’m the manager of Newcastle United, and Jack Hixon has passed your name onto me. You’ve just been released by Burnley haven’t you?”
“Er, yes I have Mr McFaul. So where does this all tie in?”
“I’d like to see you play in a trial game for us. Are you keen on it?”

Flabbergasted, Mark answered: “Er, yes. When?”
“Tomorrow at 6pm at our training ground. Can you get there for that time?”
“I think I can yes.”
“Right I will see you then. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”

When Mark told his Uncle and Auntie, they were speechless. Nick was right, there was good news following. Stuff Burnley, hello to Newcastle United. Burnley – Third Division, Newcastle United – First Division. No comparison and added to that it wasn’t as far to travel. Quite local in effect, but then again what’s 30 miles to argue with? It was better than the 97 miles it took to get to Burnley. Mark felt elated; this was a second shot at glory. All he had to do was prove it all to Willie McFaul and Newcastle United tomorrow evening.

Will Mark end up wearing these colours?[/font]

[Poolie Exile]

[font="Impact"][size=5]In at the Deep End[/size][/font]

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Chapter Seven: If it wasn't for bad luck...

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Mark turned up at the training ground and looked around, the magnitude of all was enough to take anyone's breath away never mind Mark's. It was so much better than what he had been used to at Burnley, and this was that second chance he thought he would never get.

"Looks good don't it son?" Uncle Ron asked.
"Jeez, yeah. I'm just in awe. No wonder I've got butterflies in my stomach." Mark replied.
"Don't be nervous, you can do it - we all know you can."
"But.."
"But, shut up!"
"Right."

Ten minutes later, Willie McFaul turned up slightly behind the time he had said to Mark on the telephone last night.

"Hello Mark, sorry I'm late."
"No problems Mr McFaul, it happens."
"And this is?" Willie asked, pointing at Uncle Ron.
"My Uncle Ron, I live with him and my auntie."
"Pleased to meet you sir."
"Likewise." Ron said.
"Come on then, follow me to the dressing room."

They made their way into a small dressing room where other lads were geting changed. Willie McFaul pointed to a shirt which had number 8 on the back, "That's the number you will be wearing Mark, so just get changed and let's then see what you are made of." Mark smiled, and got himself changed and focused on the job in hand. The trial game itself was a low-key affair, nothing too strenous and Mark generally played to what he thought was his best capabilities - it was up to Willie McFaul to make the final decision.

Shortly after coming out of the changing room, Mark made his way out and was beckoned into an office where Uncle Ron was already sat with Mr McFaul.

"Take a seat Mark, please."

Mark sat down.

"I've analysed your performance, and you've done well."
"Thank you."
"It's been hard but I've decided that we will give you a schoolboy contract until the age of 16. Is that fine?"
"Fine? That's fantastic."
"Well, you've earned it. I look forward to seeing you progress then."

With that, Mark and Ron left Mr McFaul's office and drove home with big grins on their faces. This was going to be it, Mark sensed. So Burnley's loss had become the gain of Newcastle United. The two year contract passed by quickly, Mark never missed a game throughout and even Scotland schoolboy honours came his way thanks to the fact his father was a Scot. Academically, he was doing well as expected - it seemed like everything was finally falling into place. Three days after his final GCSE exam, Mark was called back to see Willie McFaul alongside the other lads whose schoolboy contracts had expired. This was to see if they were declared good enough to be offered apprentice professional terms. The call came for Mark's turn, and he walked into the manager's office.

"Mark, you know why you are here."
"Yes boss."
"Well, we've been assessing your performances and have made a final decision."
"OK."
"I'm sorry to say Mark, we have decided against offering you apprentice professional terms but we're sure you will have the ability to make it somewhere else. Sorry, but it was a hard choice - I'm sure you will understand."

Speaking despite the heartache that was building up inside of him, Mark replied: "I respect your decision sir, thank you."

With that, Mark made his way back home to Hartlepool - devastated for a second time. An hour later, he arrived home and broke the news. The silence was deafening, pure stunned silence. Mark now believed he was never going to realise his dream.

"So where do I go from here then..." Mark said, before sulking off to his bedroom and sitting there - totally numb and his head in his hands.

Surely someone would take a chance, but the question was whom? Ron and Linda just prayed for a miracle - surely they did happen?[/font]

[Poolie Exile]

[font="Impact"][size=5]In at the Deep End[/size][/font]

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Chapter Eight: Going Home

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Still reeling from the shock of being rejected at Newcastle, Mark wondered where his footballing aspirations lie next. Perhaps now he should have realised that this was just one ambition too far, but no - Mark thought he was still capable of it. You can never say goodbye to your dreams he thought, and this was one dream he still felt was capable of coming true.

The family and his friends rallied around the young man, just what he needed at the time. Playing football was all Mark knew best despite his undoubted academic abilities too, so he kept playing the game and praying for a miracle to happen for a third time. Sixth form college was provisionally sorted, as providing Mark got the grades he would be studying for his 'A' Levels come September in Mathematics, English and Physics.

One summer day, the lads were having there usual kickabout on the field when Jack Hixon's car again pulled up.

"Mark, Mark!" Jack shouted.
"Hello Jack!" came back the reply.
"Need to see you son, got a minute?"
"Sure," and Mark ran over to him.

Jack explained to Mark how sorry he was that Newcastle hadn't taken him on. However Jack told him not to be too disheartened as scouts from lower league clubs were always on the lookout for new talent that had been cast aside by bigger teams such as Newcastle. It happened all the time. Jack also reckoned Mark would be picked up sooner rather than later. Mark hoped Jack was right, he was clinging to that hope - and even if he didn't then he knew he could probably make it at a non-league team. Jack patted Mark on the back, and wished him the best of luck.

Later that day, Mark went home and was astonished to see his Uncle Ron deep in conversation with a bloke whose face he thought he knew. Thinking nothing of it, Mark went back towards the stairs when Ron spotted him and called him into the living room.

"Son, need you in here."
"Sure. What's up?"
"Mark, do you recognise this man?"
"I think so, but somehow I can't remember his name. Sorry."
"Name's Moncur lad, Bobby Moncur. I am the manager of Hartlepool United." said the gentleman.
"Pleased to meet you."
"Likewise, I'm glad we've finally met. My scout has recommended you to me and since you are unattached after leaving Newcastle: well, we'd like to make you an offer."
"What sort of offer?" Ron asked.
"Well, how does apprentice terms sound?"
"You're kidding?" Mark enquired.
"No. Hartlepool United would like to have you, it's up to you to accept if you want."
"Well, it would be a honour Sir."
"Good." Bobby Moncur then pulled out a few sheets of paper from his briefcase "This is your contract Mark, all we need is your signature on both copies."

Grabbing the pen from Mr Moncur, Mark signed. The dream was now alive again.

"Right we look forward to seeing on Monday for pre-season training. Be at the Vic for 8.30am and with that I will bid you both goodbye."

Bobby Moncur then left the house, leaving Mark still overwhelmed at what had just happened. Playing for Pools, the club he supported from the terraces, was definitely the stuff dreams were made of...

Home Sweet Home

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[Poolie Exile]

[font="Impact"][size=5]In at the Deep End[/size][/font]

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Chapter Nine: Hammer Blow

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The Monday couldn't come around quick enough, just the pure joy of now taking the first step on the ladder and at Pools as well saw Mark spring out of his bed. Well, how would you feel if the Club you've supported all your life offered you a chance of playing for them? It was akin to a young child on Christmas Day waiting to see what presents Santa had brought for them.

"How you feeling?" Auntie Linda asked Mark as he walked into the kitchen.
"Fantastic, absolutely fantastic." was the reply from a grinning Mark.
"Want a bacon sandwich before you go?"
"Please. It's not as if I have got a long way to go is it?"
"No, here you are then."

Mark munched his way through the sandwich, and picked up his sports bag which was lying in the hall. Inside were his shinpads, and two pairs of boots as well as other things like spare studs, shinpad tape... He opened the front door and walked the 5 minute walk to the Victoria Ground - his destiny. On his way, he saw Bob Brown whose son Michael was blossoming into a handy little player: even though Michael was only 11.

"Good luck Mark!" came the shout from Bob.
"Thanks!"

Mark arrived at the Vic dead on time, and Bobby Moncur officially welcomed him to the club with a quick look around everything before taking him off and the other players where pre-season training kicked off. A year later on and Mark had picked up Scotland Youth honours to add to his Schoolboy caps as well as becoming captain of the Hartlepool United Reserve Team, when suddenly Cyril Knowles (who had succeeded Bobby Moncur) pulled him to one side.

"I'm giving you a league debut on Saturday."

Mark was speechless, he couldn't even speak. The culmination of the dream so to say, all his family and friends would be overwhelmed. Come the Saturday, he was literally buzzing. Mark remembered little of the game, apart from he set the first goal and then scored one in the final minute to clinch a 2-0 win. It was the start of 75 games consecutive in the side, and scouts were watching him. One day, Alan Murray called Mark into the office:

"Mark, we've been offered £500,000 for you from Celtic..and to be honest I think it's a great offer."
"Serious?"
"Yes, and we don't want to let you go but we feel this can be a great move for you."
"I understand. Thanks for this."
"They want you to travel up next week for talks."
"I'll see what they will offer me personally and then decide."
"Good lad, and oh congratulations on another thing too..you've been called up for the forthcoming Scotland Under 21 game at Pittodrie!"
"Thanks."

Career going well, a possible move to Parkhead, Under-21 honours around the corner: things couldn't be better. So Mark jogged out on the training pitch, warmed up, then suddenly the sound similar to a gun shot echoed. Mark was rolling about in pure agony, worse than the pain at Burnley. Thing was, Mark was a bit of a practical joker in the team so that the lads thought initially he was fooling around. It was only until Rob McKinnon realised the anguish that all became serious.

Cue hospital and the deep analysis. It took most of the day, but eventually the doctors in Hartlepool General Hospital found out. Deep under sedation, Mark lie there unaware. Meanwhile, Alan Murray and Uncle Ron were confronted with it. Mark had sustained cruciate ligament damage and shredded his Achilles to pieces. The doctor put it simple, Mark would never ever play football again. The worse thing was to tell him when he came round, and Uncle Ron - in tears - was the man to do it...[/font]

[Freddy23]

This is an amazing story great KUTGW

[Poolie Exile]

[font="Impact"][size=5]In at the Deep End[/size][/font]

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Chapter Ten: Picking Up The Pieces

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When Mark finally came round after the operations, he lay looking up and round with Ron, Linda, Mam, Dad and sister Louise at the bedside. He clearly had no idea what had happened.

"You've changed me bed, bloody hell it's hard!" Mark said.
"Sorry." Auntie Linda replied, with a hint of sarcasm.
"What's these?" Mark asked, pointing at the machines and drip. "Where are we?"
"We're in hospital with you son." Dad responded.
"Hospital? What's me doing up in hospital."

Dad took a deep breath and composed himself, this was the moment. Mark was informed what had happened, and the extent of it all. The colour started to drain from Mark's face, then Dad gave him the final statement.

"...and sadly to say the doctors have informed us that you'll never be able to football again."
"Noooooooo!" Mark wailed "This is a nightmare, aaaaarggggh!"

At the age of 18, Mark's career was over before it could even start. Such a gifted talent taken away from the game at a young age and cruelly in an innocuous incident. The torture through Mark's body was unbearable, he felt like he wanted to die in that bed. Tears streamed down his face, and the family knew as all close knit families do, that they had help Mark get through it. Three months later, Mark was finally released from the hospital but was still constantly under physiotherapy. He was not the same person though.

What Mark had got for him, was the fact he had started getting his coaching badges at any early age. He thought, sure he couldn't play anymore but perhaps he could be involved otherwise - coaching for example. Someone would take a chance, and Mark didn't care if he had to move again just so he could get a job in football. Well he would have probably experienced it as a player...

Just a few days after coming out of hospital, the phone rang.

"Hello, is that Mark? asked the voice on the other end.
"Yes, speaking."
"Hi Mark, I'm Dave Stringer - Norwich City manager. I've got a job for you if you're interested."
"What kind of job?"
"Well, it's working with our Football in the Community programme."
"Sounds promising."
"Look come down to Norwich if you can tomorrow, and we'll have a chat."
"Done."

Dave Stringer didn't need too much persuasion, Mark was going to accept it no matter what. And so at noon the following day, Dave Stringer and Norwich City had their man. Mark was back and involved in football, but the only questions were from Mark to himself: how much did he want it, and would he see it through?

New start, new club, new challenge

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