AFC Totton - The Stags

November 2016. Mrs B wants to go to a firework display after work with some of her colleagues. "Do I have to?" I mumble, receiving a stern look in response. "Yes." Well that's that I suppose.

"Where is it, anyway?" I ask, hoping I can meet her there and perhaps pop into a local drinking establishment on the way. "Its at AFC Totton's ground." Things are looking up already. My local non-league team, who I keep meaning to go and watch one of these days, but never get round to...at least I can tick the ground off the list while I watch a few rockets, swing a sparkler around and talk crap with a few of her work friends. Might even get a burger out of it.

It's actually alright to be honest. The display is much better than I thought it would be, she's driving (I'm already 4 pints deep) and a few of her colleagues are into football so we're having a proper dick-swinging contest trying to out do each other with our hipster football knowledge. I'm definitely winning now that I've dropped in a "Carrilero" or two and topped the conversation off with a "Segundo Volante". I'm picking out some fried onion from my trendy beard when I hear a throat being cleared behind me.

"Excuse me, can I introduce myself?" Here we go, another FM geek who's overheard and wants to join in and chat about the Andorran first tier. "My name is Wayne Mew, I'm the chairman here at AFC Totton". Interesting. "Can we have a chat in my office?".

"I couldn't help but listen in back there..." he starts, "...and this is unusual so hear me out." I literally have no idea what is going on. "Things are going alright for AFC Totton this season but, and this is strictly between me and you, I'm thinking for next year I want to mix things up a little." Ok.... Still not a clue. "You sound like you know what you're doing, and I have an instinct for these things. I want you to be our manager."

"What the sh*t, are you kidding me?!" I spurt out. "I work in the NHS. I've never coached or managed in my life. I mean sure, I've played a bit of Sunday League but...". "I'm deadly serious..." he responds, "...out of interest, do you have any coaching qualifications?". "They do those?" I ask, trying to mask my surprise. "No problem" he replies, "that beard is qualification enough. In fact, it's probably worth about £400 a week." "I'm in" I decide, before giving it any thought, "but I'll have to work my notice period down at the hospital." "No problem..." he says, "...you can start beginning of next season. I'm not going to start you now, that would be ridiculous. See you in pre-season."

Mrs B will not be happy. This is the story of what happens when a complete nobody takes charge in the Evo-Stick Southern Division One South & West...