What makes people dream?

It’s a funny old subject but I thought I would share a dream of mine I had recently.

It  all began one night after sitting down with a half full bottle of Vodka. I had a few Red Bulls in the fridge and the two tend to go well together……

The old woman had gone to bed, and NCIS had just started on the television, so I nestled down and poured myself a nice stiff one, well before I knew it the Red Bulls and the Vodka was gone, the double episode of NCIS had finished and so probably I was as well, I laid back in the chair and I was gone.

It started off, I was travelling and I reached my destination and climbed out of the car.

My first view was The Emirates sign and realised we were at a game, we was walking up the steps leading to the stadium when a group of people came over and surrounded us and ushered us to a side door.

I went inside into a board room, I looked round and was surrounded by suits all asking me questions about my plans, and what I intended to do in the future. They asked if could I do a better job than Bertie Mee?

I was speechless, all I could remember was nodding to all of the questions and before I knew it I was sitting pitch side.

To my left hand side I had Tony Adams going on about Defensive duties and how Vieira shouldn’t be playing.

After every sentence he kept saying Boss, so much so it started to get on my nerves and I looked at Tony and put my finger to my mouth and he went quiet.

The next thing that happened was I was standing on the touch-line cutting oranges up into quarters and passing them round to the players, I can remember Georgie Armstrong saying I’m knackered boss, running that wing has done me in.

I asked him if he needed a break and he nodded yes.

I looked round at the bench and the first thing I saw was a pair of pink boots!  I pointed to the player wearing them and he walked towards me. I said ‘your up son – but change those stupid boots only black boots in my team’!

The whistle blew and the game resumed but my team were still on the touch-line fighting over fairy cakes!

I said to them ‘Forget the cakes and get out there or the game started without you’.

They went back out but it was as though it was in slow motion, my players running for all their worth but not going anywhere and their players were running like Linford Christy. A shot was fired at our goal and I could see a dive, a pony tailed guy was reaching and stretching and finger tipped it away.

The crowd roared an as he looked round he waved, typical Pat Jennings. I could feel myself smiling.

The game was over I don’t know who scored but we won but every body was saying we still need two to three signings.

My dream took was into a meeting and we hadn’t lost a game, I was asked what are I going to do, I was the Manager, didn’t  I realise we haven’t won a trophy for five years everyone wanted to know my plans there and then.

I stood up and looked down on the people around the table:

‘We are going to sell what we have and buy a whole set of new players and I don’t care how much it will cost, we have the money and were going to spend spend spend, just like that woman who won the pools’.

‘I want all English, no Scottish, no Welsh and definitely no Irish, I want bulldogs, people who know what its like to stand back to back in the trenches. I want fighting spirit, real winners’.

Someone shouted out, asking me who, I said: ‘Name me some English players’?

‘A stream of players names were shouted out and I nodded my approval, Terry, Lampard, Charlton, Hunter and big Jack Stories. Parker, Greaves, Styles, Hurst and Radford, there must have been twenty names and I nodded.

‘Get them I said, get them all – ready for Saturday’s match against Barcelona’.

The players were bought and match day arrived.

I walked through the dressing room and watched as my new players pulled on the red and white quadrant shirts, the time had come for my team talk and I started by telling them what Arsenal stood for.

‘Our supporters are out there singing and I want you to go out there and sweat blood for them, anyone not doing their bit will be taken off and castrated’. ( murmurs began), If you’re not man enough, walk now, this is your first and last offer’!

No-one moved, once I’d finished there was a loud cheer people clasping hands and lots of back slapping and out the lads went, happy, pumped up and ready for action……

Sadly, at this point I was woken by the Mrs telling  me to come to bed!

I will never know how my team ever got on but we do know one thing and that is, anything can be possible in football if you dream long enough.

Oh, and I must get some more Vodka. 🙂

This was a Steve Palmer dream……