Conspiracy theory
15/05/05 | by Alan Fisher

All references to any characters or people mentioned in this piece are fictitious, and any resemblance that they may bear to real life people is entirely coincidental. Honest.

Nigel Doherty was a big businessman. He’d made it into the top 100 rich list and had finally gained a controlling interest in the football club he followed as a boy – Pottingham Florist. The club had recently suffered relegation and the first job on hand was to appoint a new first team coach to lead the side back into the top flight. Nigel compiled a large dossier on suitable candidates and during the board meeting that was to make the final decision regarding the vacancy that our story begins.

“My preferred candidate has an international profile, and has unprecedented coaching qualifications,” said Nigel, to the evident excitement of the assembled boardroom. “And I’m going to appoint him anyway, because there’s nothing you can do to stop me!” Whilst a little put-out, the fellow board members were excited by the prospect of the words of the chairman, so it was with eager ears they awaited more details. “I am to install David Pratt, England international and saviour of Italian giants Jam-doria”, he revealed with a theatrical flourish, before retiring to his private chambers with his chief executive, Marc Parker.

“Wonderfully handled, Sir”, simpered Marc, as Nigel installed himself behind his desk and decanted a generous measure of 20 year Malt Whisky. “Thank you, Parker”, he answered – a smile curling on his lips. “We shall prevail.” He laughed. After Nigel had regained his composure he returned to business. “Pratt will be given expansive transfer funds to spend – given his complete ineptitude as both a manager, coach and man manager he will waste it on rubbish, and ultimately the club will flounder when it should be pushing for promotion,” he laughed. “But Sir, isn’t that a bad plan?" inquired Marc. "I thought we wanted to push for success this season?”

“Oh Parker, you’re so naïve”, smiled Nigel. “If I install a man of Pratt’s outward qualifications – a former England international, with coaching badges, seemingly the ideal candidate, and he fails – then I will have a cast-iron excuse to never appoint any similar candidate in the future,” he explained. “There is one man who could threaten my power, behind whom the supporters would rally no matter what the fortunes of the team.”

“Of course, Sir”, whined Marc, “you are of course referring to Stuart Fierce, former Florist and England captain?”

“Indeed, Parker,” Nigel responded. “As long as I’m at the helm of Florist he shall not get so much as an interview at this club.” And so it transpired that Nigel had plotted the demise of the club for the sole purpose of providing – in his mind – a legitimate excuse to snub any future attempts by Fierce to apply for the manager's job. After all, he’d be roundly criticised for his appointment of a similar aged former-England international – he’d be a damn fool to make the same mistake again for the sake of sentimentality. Woe unto us.