Chương 38: 9.1 - Var Var Voom

Player Manager 9 The story so far: With almost a third of the 2024/25 season gone, Max Best has led Chester FC to ninth in the National League, the fifth tier of English football. His youthful team has been bolstered by the return to form of number nine Henri Lyons and the return to the squad of the German forward Pascal Bochum. The women's team are in complete control of their division and many of the under eighteens are getting first-team minutes ahead of their FA Youth Cup run.

The only cloud on the horizon is that an American businessman seems to be angling to buy the fan-owned club - a move that would see Max quit on the spot.

"Small talk is for strangers and con men." Captain Holt, Brooklyn 99 1. Friday, October 11, 2024 [Room ambience: plinky plonky music; lightly cascading water.] - Hello and welcome to Var Var Voom, the Francophile podcast which takes a dry, spry, and excessively wry side eye at world football. We sigh, we decry, but we never say goodbye because the beautiful game is the world's game and while they can try to take it away from us, they never will succeed.

I am your host, Jean-Jacques Javet and on this award-winning episode is a friend, a kindred spirit, a warrior-poet, a creator of football, Henri Lyons. - I am dry and spry, but I cannot promise to be wry. [We hear squelching noises.] How do you know this episode will win awards? - Awards are like cats. They choose the laps of those who treat them with indifference. But this one is pure award catnip. The concept is singular, the access unprecedented, and the company sparkling. - Do you refer to myself or to Dean?

- The concept is The Sounds of Football and I will be accompanying a professional footballer as he goes about his day - with one or two detours to take in a few sights and shake up the crystal ball of Henri's memory. [Physio Dean, not very clear] - Does Max know about this? [Henri] - Max agrees that injured players should keep themselves busy, does he not?

[Dean, now with a microphone closer to his mouth] - He means teaching Brooke about offside and why you can be promoted from the National League North into the National League but then get relegated into the National League South. Not whatever this is. [Squelching continues] [JJ] - Who is Brooke? No, let's save that. Listener, we have started our day in a medical room located on the ground floor of an office building in Chester, a sometimes beautiful Roman town in the north west of England.

Outside this room is a corridor leading to a large pair of doors, beyond which are two grass pitches and two artificial ones. This is where Chester's mens and women's teams train, though the stadium is across town, twelve minutes away. The women's current home stadium is in Flint, which is even more in Wales than the Deva stadium. [Henri, turning his head towards his friend for a moment] - Informative, but not informative enough to spare your listeners a trip to Wikipedia.

[JJ] - My listeners enjoy some outside reading. Those who are intrigued may look it up. Those who merely enjoy my accent are free to merely enjoy my accent while those who really enjoy my accent are free to really enjoy my accent. [Henri, settling back] - How liberated your listeners must be. [JJ] - Both Chester teams play in tier five. For the women, life begins in the second tier. For the men, just one more promotion will mean a return to the big time.

Television, media interest, and a slice of the so-called 'solidarity payments' from the Premier League. Millions of pounds are at stake. [Squelch.] My friend Henri, Chester's number nine, is receiving treatment. A pleasantly noisy medical massage. What is the diagnosis, my friend? - It is a calf strain I suffered against Barnet. That was a hard day. [Squelch.] We had a vexatious start to the season, Jean-Jacques.

Max shunned my advice and pruned too much of the squad - a failing he readily admits and one that I have generously forgiven him for. We also had one or two personal issues but the sense of togetherness is back, I think, and we climbed to ninth. Within range of the playoffs, which is our goal for the year. Oh, that's the spot. [Dean] - There? - Yeah. [Dean] - Better than at the start of the week, though? - Much. [JJ] - Things were looking up, but then a setback. - We were losing to Barnet.

They're one of the two best teams in the league, so it was no surprise, but we were competing well. I felt a pull and that was that. Without me, the team had little chance. Max didn't even bring himself on for the last twenty minutes, as he usually does, which I took to be a sign that the effort needed to get back in the game didn't match the potential reward. Thus a two-nil defeat. The gap between us increased from eight to eleven points. - Barnet are only in second place, no?

- Yes but we don't even consider first place. That is Grimsby Town and they are on something of a rampage. They play dull, percentage football but they have Marcus Wainwright for a striker and he is on a tear. Fifteen goals already and he's on pace to compete with Muggles and Bailiff, who scored over forty goals for Wrexham and Notts County in their promotion campaigns. For us this season, second seems out of reach already, but it's not completely crazy to track them and dream. [Squelch squelch squelch.] Uhhhhhh.

[Squelch.] So... a loss to Barnet on a Tuesday night and injuries to myself, Henri Lyons, and Carl Carlile. He's a talented defender. We missed the Maidstone United game and that proved to be even more disappointing than against Barnet. - It was one-all, was it not? - Yes but they are limited and if we are to retain any ambitions for the season, we simply have to beat such teams. [Dean] - It was wretched, that day. Windy as hell and horizontal rain. Almost unplayable.

As a club, we try to play nice football and we were zipping the ball around and then a gust would come and blow it out of touch. [Sound of him pumping a dispenser. Big slapping noise. Gasp from Henri.] Pascal is back in the manager's good books and he was trying his clever moves and not getting anywhere. In the end, Max gave up on football. He came on for thirty minutes at the end and had, what, ten shots? Shoot on sight. It was something to behold.

He'd fire one from thirty yards at the top corner and the wind would take it up to row Z. He'd hit one low and hard and it would slow down enough for the keeper to jog to it. Max likes Maidstone because they've got a culture like ours. Community-minded and progressive and all that. He likes the manager, too - Maidstone went on a wild cup run last year - so he was getting frustrated but instead of boiling over like he would against Grimsby or Darlington he burst out laughing.

Laughed his head off, dribbled, hit a shot even harder. Same result. His last three goes were straight at the goalie because he thought, fuck it, if the wind moves the ball it'll be hard to save. Course, there was no wind in that exact moment, right? [JJ] - Murphy's law. [Dean] - I don't know about that. The tenth shot was going wide but it hit a defender and rebounded in. Max didn't even celebrate. I don't celebrate shit goals, he says. Shit goal, shit point, but a shit point is better than nothing.

It was a shocking match. Normally even if we lose we have some good patches and you can see where we're going as a team. You with me? They can't put it together for ninety minutes but you can see what it will look like. That game, though, phew. What a stinker. [Squelching resumes.] [Henri] - We now sit twelfth with a goal difference of plus one. [Sigh.] It is my fault. I was distracted at the start of the season - did I mention I found ecstatic happiness in the embrace of a goddess?

- but now I'm back and trying too hard to make up for lost time. [Dean] - Your mind works like that but your body doesn't. You need to ramp up your effort, not go straight to a full sprint. - I know. Balance is hard to find this year. [JJ] - Will you be back soon? - Yes. Fortunately we have a pair of relatively lesser opponents in our coming fixtures. Tomorrow is the FA Cup fourth qualifying round. We play a team called Mousehole. - You're joking? - I am not. They are from Cornwall. Six and a half hour drive.

Thank God the match is in Chester. [Dean] - I like away matches. I get to join the banter without trying to explain tendons for the hundredth time. [Henri] - The Tuesday evening match is the Cheshire Cup. We will rotate the team; I likely would not have played anyway. So the target is to be back for next Saturday against Ebbsfleet. [Slow squelching followed by little French gasps.] [JJ] - This episode will be called The Sounds of Football.

Dean, I have been writing and podcasting about football for quite some time and I could tell you far too much about the inner workings of FIFA, UEFA, CONCACAF, AFCON, and more. Money trails, corruption, the four hundred million pounds spent on a single building that FIFA does not even own. [Dean] - Wait what? [JJ] - But I am a terrible player! I never got past Friday night five-a-side with my mates so a training ground is still quite a mysterious space to me.

This is the fifth tier of English football but it exists on such a pedestal in my mind. The little boy inside me is giddily dancing around. [Dean] - I have tablets for that. [JJ] - Before you got this job, didn't you ever wonder what it all sounded like? What it smelled like? How footballers talked? [Squelching stops.] [Dean] - I suppose I did, yeah. [The squelches resume, with each one being followed by tiny hand claps. Henri moans.] [JJ] - It's just like I imagined it. Massages inside. Training outside.

People wandering from one space to another with their boots on. Clomp, clomp, clomp. [Pause.] I didn't really expect it to sound like a Tibetan monastery, though. [Dean] - Hmm? Oh, the music. And the water feature. I'm not sure you'll get a good sound of football from Chester. We do things different around here. Example - the spa atmosphere. Max wants this space to be welcoming and relaxing. He wants players to come in and get checked out if they've got some discomfort or something doesn't feel right.

That's why Henri came off against Barnet. Could he have played another ten minutes? Sure. But Max would have gone ballistic. Anyway, Max sees when players aren't moving right; it's not worth trying to hide things from him. [JJ] - But you lost to one of your biggest rivals. [Dean] - What's the alternative? Henri stays on, Max goes on, they fight and get lucky and get us a draw. We're eight points behind but now our only experienced striker is out for two months. Three months.

Not worth it in the slightest and you don't need a Maxterplan to get your head around that. Our core squad is small. We've got backups who aren't proper ready. Every time we get an injury to a key player there's more strain on the other key players. Ryan Jack's out. Henri and Carl missed a couple of matches. Max himself is trying to get as much recovery time as he can, which is why he sacked off the Barnet game.

So we're down three and a half players and that means no breaks for Aff and Wisey and Glenn and everything starts to get frayed at the edges and if you pull it hard enough things unravel. [Henri] - Today you'll hear a lot of crazy things but you have to bear in mind that almost everything we do is about winning football matches. [A single clap.] [Dean] - That'll do for today, Henri. If you need me, I'm here for a while and in a bit I'm going to Finch Farm. [The sound of Henri noisily turning and sitting up. The treatment table groans and squeaks.] [Henri] - Everton's training ground? Why? [Dean] - We think Ryan is ready for cutting and jumping. The physios there are helping us with his recovery. [JJ] - That's very decent of them. [Dean] - Yes, it is.

Ryan played for Everton, came through the youth system, still has friends there so I suspect if he put in a request to use their pool once a week or something like that - something he'd never do, by the way - they would be fairly amenable but there's something about ACL injuries that unites the whole of the sport. They're a plague. The lads there have been helping me out with advice and double checking the timings and all that. I know what to do but it's different when it's your own player.

You get into wishful thinking. It's been a relief being able to follow best practice and of course they've got top equipment. [Henri] - Dean wants to do a study on ACL injuries. [Dean] - I want to get good data but clubs tend to be quite snobbish about who they talk to. Chester in the sixth tier? Sorry, we're busy. Fifth tier? Sigh, what do you want? No, we don't do that. I was getting frustrated, to be honest, but recently I've been getting calls from clubs about injuries that have just happened.

I'm not sure if it was because Dieter Bauer came to visit us... [JJ] - The visit of a World Cup-winning legend does give you some cachet. More visibility. [Henri] - Visit-bility. [Dean] - I think it's Max, though. He's doing something, or he's asked Brooke to use her charms. But I don't care why it's happening; if enough people get in touch offering access to their data I'll really be able to get somewhere. Prevention, treatment, reducing recurrence. We could make a real difference!

[Henri] - Jean-Jacques, here is a rare sound. Put the microphone right here. - Here? - Yes, perfect. [Pause. Silence.] - What am I hearing? - Something rare and precious. That's the sound of Physio Dean... happy.

[Air movement, the sound of distant traffic, some shouts.] - We're outside and there are some twenty players running around doing drills. [Whistle.] Oh! A peep! Was that Sandra Lane's whistle? - It was. - Max Best's understudy. She has managed, what, twenty professional matches for Chester's men's team? There's an awful lot of interest in her. In many respects, she's more famous than Max Best. What's she like? - She's excellent. How close do you want to get? - As close as I'm allowed. - Come.

[The sounds of football draw closer. There are shouts. Runs. Yelps. Names.' Mine! Left! And again! Have it!' A woman's voice: 'I swear to fucking God, Dan!'] - Henri, it's wonderful. [JJ allows the audio to speak for itself for twenty seconds.] Where is the main man? - I am right here. - Where is the second most important person in Chester? - She's at work. - Where is Max Best? - Oh, him? I believe he is in Wales. - Aren't we in Wales, now? - No, we are not. See the boy there? He's called Dan Badford.

Look how smooth he is. The way he turns as he receives the ball? Mwah!

That one is called Lucas Friend. He's a left back. - What's Dan? - Central midfielder. Ah, but if we had the time and the right equipment we could record them kicking the ball and you'd hear the difference. Lucas was a goalkeeper and he likes to clobber it. Dan is what we call a silky smooth playmaker. He caresses the ball. - You can hear the difference? - Oh, yes.

There's a story that when David Beckham went to Madrid, the other players could turn their backs and know when he kicked the ball because he sounded so English. There's Benny. He's a striker. He is very intelligent; he admires me. These young men have been out on loan getting some minutes in lower leagues but they are back because the FA Youth Cup starts in a few days. Max is very serious about it. He plans to unleash WibRob. - Unleash?

- [laughs] It is the only word we use with him and somehow it is the only word that fits. William is the youngest goalscorer in National League history. Like many of our players he is raw but in his case he is so physically developed he doesn't look as out of place as the others. [There's the oof of a hard tackle going in followed by a burst of shouting. An older man shouts 'oi oi oi'. Five seconds later, there's clapping from different parts of the pitch and the previous noises resume.] - The FA Youth Cup, you said. This facility is not terrible, I have seen worse, but the other entrants will be from top academies. You'll be up against the next Bellingham, the next Phil Foden. - Ours train with the first team on a regular basis and many of the starting eleven will have played minutes in real matches. I am with you - I do not know if it will be enough, though what more could be done I do not know. We shall see. Max talks about it all the time; we are quite invested.

Keep an eye out for their results but do not be surprised if it takes a big team to defeat us. - It nearly came to blows a few moments ago. - What, that little tackle? No, not even close. That was nothing. We play in the National League. It is not so refined as one would wish. - One often hears of players fighting each other at training. How long would I have to wait to see that here? - Interesting question. I think you would wait for some time.

There are always frustrations, especially as our results have been below par. Imagine you work hard all week and play with guts and spirit for eighty-seven minutes and some dolt tries to be clever or is lazy or doesn't follow instructions and poof - you have lost. Thousands of fans are sad, one hears sarcastic comments in local shops, the book club's WhatsApp group gets mysteriously quiet, the podcasters dissect your performance.

It is very easy for tensions to bubble up and that can happen here as easily as any other club. But there is much more rotation of the squad, here. Glenn Ryder is the captain and a very good and important player but he gets rotated out. A player such as myself would expect to play every minute of every game but the manager has other ideas. I can be in peak form, firing goals from all angles, and still be out of the team, either to keep me fresh or for tactical reasons.

The plan might require me to come on for the second half. Or simply my minutes are being given to a young player so he can develop. It's not personal so it's hard to take it personally. If you don't have favourites you don't have jealousies. There's also a culture of, how can I say it? Let me try to be simple. It is not my job to teach Dan there how to play midfield. In the moment he makes a mistake we can be frustrated and show it. However, if it's a technical problem, that can only be fixed on the training pitch.

Screaming at him during the match or at half time achieves nothing. If there is any screaming to be done, Max does it, or delegates it. [A quiet moment. Sandra has gathered the men and is explaining something. Henri scratches his chin; his wrist bumps into the microphone.] I think I've realised in my time working with Max Best how little I understand what the other players are doing.

The left back slot is of particular interest at the moment and the left back will seem, to my eyes, to have played well but gets withdrawn after twenty minutes. Or he seems to have had a shocker and Max praises him in the dressing room. If you ask - and if Max is in the mood to discuss it - you'll learn that the left back's direct opponent was trying to achieve this or that and our player managed to stop him. Or perhaps he didn't, but he did it better than anyone else in the league so far.

Or that Max required him not to attack or to attack more, or that he had different passing instructions to the rest of the team, or the time I said he was out of position we had actually switched formation for a few minutes. What we do is far more complicated than at other clubs of this level and shouting 'you're out of position!' at a player inevitably makes you look foolish.

I would suggest that those of us who have been here the longest have learned to let Max do the tantrums and we ought to concentrate on our own jobs. Ah! Another reason you likely won't see a fight. You would most want to shout at one of the new players, since they are the ones making the most mistakes per ninety, but they are under the protection of the Brig. He's ex-British army and he is formidable. Throw a punch at one of his boys and you, well. Dentistry is the hot topic of the moment. - Dentistry? - Yes.

I'll explain it later. Suffice to say, no-one wants to lose a tooth. We don't throw punches.

[Sound of boiling, hissing, cutlery on plates, muffled conversations and laughs.] - This is our canteen. We share it with the employees from BoshCard - civilians - which has its pros and cons. This is Gordo. He thinks he could run Chester better than Max; hilarious hubris. Over there is Penny. Always wears pencil skirts. Nominative determinism in action. I do wish her parents had called her Minnie. That's Jenny; her French is excellent but you said to stick to English.

When it's raining we come to collect the meals and someone grabs an umbrella as we rush inside. In inclement weather one makes new friends. Let's meet the cooks. Pete, Trish, this is my good friend Jean-Jacques. You thought Dieter Bauer was famous? Wait till you see JJ's Wikipedia page! [Muffled greetings.] They're busy, let's leave them be. This is all new. A symbol of the club's progress. For the players who won the league last year this feels very much like a reward.

I helped to build this with my goals, Jean-Jacques. Can you appreciate that feeling? - I can guess at it. I suppose in my life I have had similar accomplishments. - Indubitably. The link from my goals to this kitchen and these new jobs is so concrete, though. It's rather intoxicating. Get some audio from here. Food is a very important part of a footballer's life and the higher we progress through the leagues, the more time we will spend eating together. [Sound of food.] - We are in the car and Henri has asked me to record. - Jean-Jacques, this is what a football player does. He drives to training. He drives home. He drives to the shop. He drives home. You must record the sound of my car. [Henri starts the engine. We listen to the blinking of the indicator as he pulls out onto a bigger road. He accelerates smoothly. And so on. It's audio from a Peugeot in an award-winning podcast. Use your imagination.] The distances are not far but it can be a lonely life, my friend.

A football player's car is one of the saddest places in the cosmos.

[Car doors slam. Footsteps. A light breeze whips across the microphones.] - This is the Deva stadium. See those thick cables coming off the roof? That's the solar array we installed. Hot showers! As long as I want. These days, if I have a quick shower Max gets mad at me. Get back in there! It's beyond luxury. [Footsteps.] If you want to walk in the other direction there's a life-size rhino statue decorated in Chester blue and white. - I'm happy to follow your lead. - Very well. Inside.

[They walk on concrete for about fifteen seconds before stopping.] This spot here. Do you sense anything? A kind of chill dread? Perhaps a dreadful chill? - No, I can't say that I do. Is this where the attack on Max Best happened? - It is not. I wanted to know if you were gullible. Come, we'll go in via the side door. I acquired keys. Come. [Footsteps for another fifteen seconds.] - Oh. [JJ shivers.] Upsetting. - Did you say something? - No, Henri. [Key in lock; jiggling.] - This is called the Blues Bar.

I will lock the door behind us. [Click, thunk, metallic scrape, chain sound, click, metallic sliding noise, chain clangs against itself. Henri twirls the keys around his finger.] As you can see, this is a space for fans to come and drink their sorrows or toast our victories. Last season we were dominant and gave them many memories and many hangovers. It is self-evident that I was their favourite player thanks to my superior skill and selfless dedication to the team. Hmm…

No need for your listeners to check that one. [He raps his knuckles on a counter.] At this level, most away fans are welcome to mingle with the home fans, but that will change when we are promoted. And in any case, attendances are rising and this place is marmalade-packed after every game. Brooke thinks we will be fully selling out by the end of the season and we will have a new challenge - how to turn fans away and retain their goodwill. - The carpet has seen better days. Who is Brooke? - Our marketing guru.

Promotions, advertising, social media, community outreach. A workaholic and very good at her job. She fits in well around here. Max wants to put motors in the rhino statue and turn it into a rodeo rhino. [Pause. The keys make a sudden noise as though Henri has pointed at his friend.] You're confused. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. - Why would she ride a rhino? - Forget I spoke. Let's take this award-winning episode to the trophy cabinet.

- So this is a football club board room. [Moment of contemplation.] It's as I imagined it. - How does it sound, Jean-Jacques? [They listen.] - It sounds... tired. But healthy? - The trophies are in the next room and normally we'd have come from the other side. The idea, I suppose, was to stun visitors with the sheer volume of success before negotiating in here. But there hasn't been much success in recent times. That's changing. - Indeed it is, although interest in Chester has greatly diminished recently.

Winning the league was a good story but Chester are punching above their weight. Don't give me those sad eyes! I refer to the general perception. Through here to the trophies? [Door squeaks. Footsteps. Sound of a knuckle rapping on a pane of glass.] It's a lot more full than I expected! That one's the National League North. I saw you in the photos hoisting it aloft! This one? - The women's league title. That one's a youth team tournament from Liverpool. Max gets stressed when he talks about it.

He's torn between winning because winning is fun and a good advertisement for why young players should join the club and the fear that winning makes big clubs take an unhealthy interest in our prospects. - Yes, I've read some of his interviews. He needs to accept that big clubs will poach his players. There's nothing he can do about it. What is this one? - That's Max's League Two Player of the Month award for when he loaned himself to Tranmere, a big rival of Chester. He is such a pest; he knows it annoys people.

[Sigh.] Yes, a very strange man. He was building up to go to war. - War? - Chester is a fan-owned club these days. These stuffy old rooms were built when it was a stuffy old club in the traditional mould. Local businessman as the owner and the club is his toy. He puts in a few hundred thousand pounds every so often and his reward is to walk around these trophies and this board room like the Great I Am. One of those owners crashed the car and now the steering wheel is one hundred percent in the hands of the fans.

Max believes someone is playing dirty pool in an attempt to trick the people into giving up their treasure. As I said, he was going to war and I was ready to stand by his side. Many of us were. The highest position ever achieved by this club, when it was Chester City, was fifth in the old third division, now League One. Max wants to beat that and I believe he can do it without turning the club into another rich man's plaything. - You said he was building up for war. - It all changed suddenly.

Max went to talk to the board. Pascal came back to the squad, back to the pitch, and now when I ask Max about the goings-on, the drama, the machinations, he smiles and tells me not to worry. The war is over. Except... - Except what? - I will keep my own counsel for a while; I must gather more information. I think he might be making a dreadful mistake. Suffice to say the board no longer vexes him and his mind is almost entirely set on cup runs. [Pained noise.] Ooohhhh! - What?

- I should have taken you to the meeting room. We go there every Monday morning. That's where the latest craziness happened. I thought I knew what to expect from Max, but he surprised me once more. I have it! We will go back. - Back? - Yes. I was going to watch some footage with you. Show you how we scout our next opponents, but I'm not playing so there is little point. Yes, we will return and watch the young players - they love to see me - and the women.

They have a documentary crew following them around and I'm helping with the production. I worry the season will be a procession - they keep winning to nil. That is our evening planned; back to BoshCard. Perfect. The women and the under 18s train there now but the younger teams are in a different location. It is not ideal and concentrating the squads in one place is a goal of the manager. I will show you the end point of that idea.

[Sounds of the countryside. Light breeze, rumble of a plane overhead. A few distant cars.] - We're in a soggy farm near the football stadium. Henri, why are we here? - When I was young, all this was fields. See? I have spoken into the future. Now this is a fallow stretch of farmland, but tomorrow it will be an all-weather football pitch. You are standing in the middle of Max Best's vision for Chester Football Club. The Henri Lyons Campus - just one potential name, you understand.

Not an obscene complex like the Death Star, he says, which I believe is a reference to Manchester City, but one that serves the club and the local community. Grass pitches, 3G, five and seven-a-side, a gym with spa facilities. The kitchen, perhaps accommodation, everything you could imagine. He's even talking about a bridge over the River Dee to connect us to Saltney. People could park there and walk to the stadium. Do you know any other football managers thinking about building bridges? - They normally burn them.

- Max does that, too. But he's a builder at heart. This bridge will follow the line of the border between England and Wales. Border Bridge, he wants to call it. - Involving more councils, more governments, will add to the complexity. - That's part of the attraction, he says. In reality, he likes the name.

- Listeners, it's half past six and we are back at... - BoshCard. - BoshCard. This episode should be sponsored by that company, we have said their name enough times. I watched the under eighteens train and it was very interesting but I forgot to record. Henri took me to a big lunch and let's say I felt drowsy. - I love this word, this drowsy. [Sounds of people kicking balls. Women running. Male coaches yelling praise. Women yelling the opposite of praise.] - Now we are served with a treat.

To my left the women are training. They have won the first four league games of their season by the following scores: seven-nil, six-nil, four-nil, and six-nil. They further won a Cheshire Ladies Cup match nine-nil. There are many words I could use to describe them, but the one that comes fastest to my mind is kind. Henri introduced me and they were tremendously kind. Very interested in what I do and how I do it. - [Sigh.] JJ, she is out of your league and underage and if you so much as smile at her half a dozen people - including her sister - will be ready to smack your teeth out. - I didn't mean... I meant the ladies in general. Dani was funny. I don't listen to a lot of podcasts. They all sound the same to me. Very witty! - The team is impressive. It's almost unfair that they have Max Best scouting and Jackie Reaper training. - He's the man from Liverpool? - Yes. Tremendous coach. [Distant cheer.] He was the men's team manager.

His knees are bad and it was a hospital visit that led to Max taking temporary charge and, well, once Max takes charge there's no such thing as him giving it back. - Unless you own Grimsby. - Grimsby are profoundly stupid. Max will have the last laugh, believe me. - You deal with him every day, Henri; I trust your judgement. So the women are to the left and they are doing some very slick drills. To our right is something on a much smaller scale. Henri, what am I looking at?

- I think it is something Max would not approve of. [Kicking noises echo. Young men yell 'yes Coley!'] The time is half past six and we have a match tomorrow at three p. m. An important FA Cup match, you remember, although you do not yet know how important. I see three players - Pascal, WibRob, Cole Adams - all of whom I believe are quite likely to start that match. Instead of resting, they are having an intense training session.

I do not know the name of the coach although I think I have heard about someone who lives in the area who knows Pascal. Dieter Bauer asked to meet him, so you can imagine the gossip. Yes, it must be him. The drill appears to be well-designed. - Can you explain it? - Superficially, it's a simple first-touch and release drill but with repetition and variation. This is the kind of private coaching session that will set you back a few hundred pounds an hour - in the north. In your London you can double that.

- So it's take a touch, get the ball out of your feet, and shoot? - That's reductive but yes. Watch and you'll see Cole and Pascal 'shoot' along the ground, while WibRob tries to hit the top left. - What does that mean? - The first two are treating this as a passing drill. You see the hoops set up in the corners of the goal? That's the player they are passing to. The coach is shouting which side to pass to after they've taken their first touch.

They have to reorganise themselves quickly to adjust and the mannequins add a modicum of complexity. WibRob, though, is trying to score. First touch, goal. First touch, goal. He's aiming above the hoops. I've seen coaches who cover the entire goal with a curtain that has four holes in, but we don't have that sort of equipment. I should mention it to Max. He's a genius but he's inexperienced. It's possible he's never seen one. - Um... is that Max? - No. Who? Where? [Voice takes on more than a note of panic.] Merde!

It's Max! He must have heard about you being creepy. Stay behind me! - What's on his face? - Mon dieu. He's come mid-shave! Beware! [Sound of a man sprinting towards the microphones.] [Max Best] - What the shit is going on? [JJ] - I didn't do anything! She asked about podcasting! I mentioned my awards, nothing more! [Henri] - Calm yourself, Max! This is my friend. An ally to Chesterness. [Max] - That fucking fuck just went fucking double green. Who gave him permission?

[Henri] - To whom do you- [Max] - Fucking Cole! What the shit is happening? Why are they training the night before a cup match! I can do murders, you know. What the... [Quietly.] Fuck me. Clive is a City Boss. [Henri] - Clive? [Max] - That's Clive O'Keefe. Clive OK. Trained the Magic Circus or whatever. Holy fuck, look at him. Look at Cole! [Sounds of training. Whistles, shouts, balls being kicked. It begins to feel like JJ has left his recording equipment and gone inside.] [Henri] - Max, er... Were you shaving?

[Max, extremely distant.] Yeah, shaving. Need shave. Emma's coming. [Pause.] Shave. [JJ] - I've heard a lot about you, Mr. Best. [Training sounds.] [Henri] - Max? [Max] - Cole! Cole! Get over here! [Sound of sprinting.] [Cole, panting] - Yes, gaffer? [Max, still distant. It sounds like he's talking to Cole but looking beyond him.] - What................. is happening? [Cole] - Um... doing some extra drills. I, uh... Boss, I know I haven't been... I know I'm lucky and I'm really trying to, er...

What it is, though, is, er... Sorry, gaffer. You've got some stuff on your... [Max] - You seem to be good at this drill. [Cole, super enthusiastic] - It's great! What you do, gaffer, is you sort of explode to one side or the other! And the defender doesn't know which so you commit to it and boom! You're clear. I can use this! Clive's an awesome teacher. It's like he's telling me exactly what I need to hear to take my game to the next level. This is the best session I've ever had. [Max, flatly] - Get William.

[Sounds of sprinting. Sounds of jogging.] [Will] - Boss? [Max] - We've got a cup match tomorrow afternoon. You're training the night before. You are a deeply stupid person. [Will] - Thought since you were mad at me I should do more training. [Max, voice raised] - You were going to start, you dick! I was going to surprise you! But you've fucked your fucking fitness! [Will, voice raised] - How was I supposed to know? I thought my next game was Monday! [Max, voice raised] - You're a professional footballer!

Do I need to give you a list of times you never train, ever? Here's one: ten minutes before kickoff. Do I need to fucking TEACH you not to do a sesh ten minutes before a game? Do I? What goes on in that thick skull of yours? Do. Not. Train. In. The. Ten. Minutes. Before. Matches. Holy shit. [Will] - Should I finish the sesh? [Max, explosive] - NO! [Will] - They sort of need me to get the cones and that coz there's a game when we're done.

[Max, sweetness and light] - Do you think picking up some cones will stop you smashing a tier nine team in the FA Cup tomorrow? [Will] - Not really. [Max, fake patient] - Not really. That's good. That's good that you know that. One less thing I need to put on my list. Do you know what I mean? Hey, you know what I like? I like the way I was born as a baby and had a brain and started learning things.

I like the way my brain sort of expanded to take in all the new information and sometimes - holy Christ - sometimes I'm able to sort of use some of the information like don't touch this hot thing to kind of, what's the word, extrapolate into new situations. Like from don't touch the hot kettle to don't go swimming in this big volcano. Do you fucking get what I'm saying? [Will] - You're saying not to train with Clive even though it's good for me.

[Max, explosive] - Train with Clive every fucking day for all I care but not today because you're playing tomorrow and not Sunday because you're playing Monday and not Monday because you're playing Tuesday. What. The. Actual! [Will, excited] - I'm playing Tuesday an' all? [Max] - I don't know, are you? Maybe you want to do an ultramarathon instead? Maybe you want to run from Tunisia to the Cape of Good Hope? [Will] - Okay, sorry boss. [Max] - Erm... Wait there a second but don't listen.

Henri, I was going to use Cole tomorrow but this session is unbelievably good for him. What do you reckon? [Henri] - How can you tell? Never mind. Ah... let him do the session. Use him on Tuesday instead. [Max] - That works, actually. I'll text Eddie to see what state he's in. I already gave him the day off. Maybe he did a fucking triathlon. William? I can't have this. I plan my teams way in advance. Some minutes tomorrow, some minutes Monday, check you out, some minutes on Tuesday, too.

This is not helpful, do you get me? [Will] - Yes, boss. I'm... I'm sorry. [Max] - Fuck it. At least it's a masterclass. Why don't you get back to it? [Will] - I'd rather play tomorrow. [Max] - Learn from Clive and I'll see what state you're in. But try to make my life easier, not harder, yeah? [Will] - Yes, boss. [The thump of retreating footsteps.] [Max] - Look at him go. I never had that much energy. [Henri] - You have more than him plus Zach! Why are you here? [Max] - Er...

heard some guys were training who shouldn't be. Why are they doing it now? They should know better. [JJ] - What is the issue? [Max] - See Cole there? All that BS he said about this explosive drill and defenders can't stop it? We've been doing drills like this with him. I've done them, Sandra's done them, Vimsy's done them. Now he's like 'oh no-one's ever told me this before.' I want to strangle the little fucker! [French laughter.] What's funny?

[Henri] - First of all, you've shaved half your jaw but you've got shaving foam remnants over the other half. [Max] - It's gel! Gel! Don't you know what foam does to your pipes? [Henri] - But you've experienced a classic teaching problem. [Max] - I have? [Henri] - Jean-Jacques is the expert. [JJ] - Mr. Best, I have a music background and at many times I've tried to teach to make ends meet. When you teach an instrument, you get to a certain point where what you say simply won't sink in.

You go on holiday and the pupil has a substitute teacher, or there is some other way a pupil encounters another methodology or style. And the next time you see them they are glowing, simply glowing, with the wonderful revelations taught to them by 'the best teacher since Prodicus'. And you are forced to smile and say 'gosh how splendid' when inside you are seething because that is the lesson you have been trying to hammer into them for years! [Max] - Why does it work with a new voice? [JJ] - Who knows?

It's not for a lack of effort. I'm motivated, the pupil is motivated. I was able to teach them many things. But somehow, not this one point. Along comes a different voice and oops! In it goes, nothing but net. [Max] - I don't like it. [JJ] - Ha! I like your friend, Henri. Mr. Best, that's how it is. [Max] - Okay, so you're saying I should keep guys around longer. If they hit a wall, as long as the effort is there, I try different teachers, different approaches. Send them out on loan. New impulses.

[JJ] - You can't do something new if you keep doing something old. [Max] - Fuck! That's great. Henri, text that to me. You, say more things like that. [JJ] - You can't change what you don't notice. [Max] - Shit, that's even better. What was your name again? [JJ] - Jean-Jacques. [Max's phone pings.] [Max] - What are you recording? [JJ] - An episode of my podcast, Var Var Voom. [Max] - What's it about? Cars? [JJ] - Va va voom was the catchphrase used by Thierry Henry to promote Peugeot in the UK.

It's not a French phrase but British people think it is. I changed it to Var so that it would be clear it was about football. Var Var Voom, a Francophile football podcast. [Long, award-winning silence.] [Max] - You've got some good ideas, though. When I've got teaching problems, can I get in touch? [JJ] - Of course! One piece of advice - you might want to stop screaming at that young man. [Pause]. I think it was William? [Max] - No, I'm on the right track there.

You've got to match his intensity or he won't listen. He wants to win and he's an absolute maniac about it. He needs to know you're as serious as him and then he accepts what you have to say. Obviously I hope he calms down because that's draining but I don't want him to lose that edge completely. [JJ] - What about Cole? [Max] - I don't know him that well. I don't think shouting's the way with him. [JJ] - There's a third player training. How do you communicate with that one? [Max] - Pascal.

The best thing right now is to ignore him. It will wind him up and make him work harder to get noticed. Someone told me praise is like water. Henri is a water lily - he needs endless amounts. Pascal is a cactus. A few drops is best. [JJ] - That's good. Henri, text that to me. [Henri] - Where have you been this week? [Max, distracted again] - Er... Wales. Been doing mega scouting in Wales. Found the new Gareth Bale. Bale started as a left back and moved up the pitch. My guy's the opposite.

I'll move him from striker to right wing to right back. The kid's the future of Welsh football and he was just there! Just there! I knew this Welsh project was right. I felt it was right as soon as Brooke… [Pause] [Henri] - The new Bale? A hundred million pound superstar? [Max, talking to himself] - He's fourteen and he plays for a club. I can't just bring him over. [Bones crack as he stretches.] His dad is like a superfan of the Welsh national team.

Big Welsh pride, there, and our rivalry with Wrexham doesn't sit well with him. I've told him I plan to have half the Welsh under 20 team playing here and if it doesn't happen I'll write a cheque to any charity he wants for ten grand. [JJ] - Perhaps he would prefer the money himself. [Max] - That's illegal. Inducement, they call it. I don't do that.

If some parent only talks about money I don't think we'll sign that kid because we're a thousand percent sure to lose him to teams that are willing to break the law with inducements. Changing the topic completely, do you remember when Man City were fined three hundred thousand pounds and banned from signing young players for two years? Wonder what that was all about? There was another Premier League club that got in trouble because they created a fake scouting job as a way to pay a kid's father.

Can't remember which club it was but they play in blue and don't mind breaking the odd law or two hundred. [Henri] - You were talking about a player and his ethnocentric father. [Max] - Yeah, the dad seemed to, ah, believe me about training up half the under 19s team. I was giving him full blast, full crazy eyes but I wasn't lying. I did miss out the bit where the under 19 team is the women. He'll laugh eventually. [Henri] - Who do we have who's Welsh? Erin? [Max] - No-one so far. But I've been scouting, haven't I?

I've got like five Welsh girls I want to sign but they play for other teams and they need convincing. I'm doing a special event where I'll take them to Manchester to watch us play West Didsbury. Day out with my top sales people, Kisi and Meghan. There's no chance these girls aren't five of the best in the whole country. Get the girls, get the boy. That's the plan. Can't fuck this one up - the stakes are huge. Ugh. Huge steaks. Hungry, now. [JJ] - What's the obsession with Wales? [Max] - Grant money.

We're getting Welsh grants to develop Welsh football. So we'll fucking develop it. The Chester fans aren't really into it but I don't care, do I? A deal's a deal and holy fuck if we get this right back there isn't a single Englishman in this city who won't be bellowing Men of Harlech as he marauds down the wing. Have you seen Zulu? They sing it in that. One of the best uses of a song in a movie. [Sings magnificently.] Can you see their spearpoints gleaming?

[Henri] - Max has many good qualities but he doesn't mind a spot of imperialism. [Max] - This right back shook me up. Really got me thinking. Thinking about the whole nature of football. My role. Pep did tiki taka and that inverted full backs thing. Mourinho did Park the Bus and anti-possession. Klopp did Heavy Metal Football and tooth whitening. If I'm so good, why aren't I reinventing anything? I just copy what better guys do. But this Welsh kid could be the answer.

What if every fucker on my team could dribble like me? You can't press eleven dribblers. Dribble, pass, bomb forward, run at you from all sides, all directions. Playground football taken to its zenith. How do you stop that? You don't, mate! When I was in hospital I had these weird dreams where players didn't have positions and it was sort of freeform and random but controlled random. Random from the outside but from the inside, meaningful. Fluid, yes, but coherent. Like water molecules.

Players free to interpret the moment but each having an affinity for the other. [JJ] - You are describing relationism. Fernando Diniz. [Long pause. Balls are kicked. People shout.] [Max] - Excuse me, what? [JJ] - Relationism. It's a style only played in Brazil to any... meaningful... [Sound of footsteps leaving in a hurry. Sound of footsteps rushing back.] [Max] - Henri, please invite this guy back. We'll go for a big steak one day. Kay bye. [Sound of footsteps leaving in a hurry.] [JJ] - Well. [Henri] - Quite.

[JJ] - Intense. [Henri] - We haven't even started on the dentists. [Pause. Balls are kicked, whistles are blown, there's a cheer.] [JJ] - So that was Max Best. Once the future king. How is he now? - He's half the player he was. - Oh, what a shame. - Yes, now he makes two mistakes per game. He's confident he will get back to his best, but you know with traumatic brain injury, healing is measured in years not weeks. As a tactician, he's better than ever. His mind is fine. Although sometimes I wonder.

- What do you wonder? - Recently he told me that he was too fit. - Too fit? - Yes. He stopped doing running drills. He told me he doesn't want to be a luxury water carrier, he wants to be a tactical nuke. The English are so militaristic. But now he only works on his technique. Passing, free kicks, his utterly sublime half-volleys. Instead of nine out of ten for ninety minutes, ten out of ten for ten minutes. Let's go inside. I'll show you our meeting room.

[Loud, irregular flickering, followed by the low buzz of fluorescent lights.] - Most Monday mornings, we come in here for a quick meeting. - It's offensively bland. - And stuffy. [A window opens.] They tried to put plants in but the plants died. - For the listeners, we are in a typical office meeting room. Rather large. Easily space for thirty people. [A chair is scraped into position, then another.] - Yes. In this room, at the start of last season, Max revealed his strategy.

The season unfolded exactly as he predicted. This year he did it again, but already we have had updates. I believe he is trying to communicate more often, with us and the fans. - That's good. - Yes, of course. But generally, apart from those key moments or for special matches that need more tactical preparation, we sit down, he tells us a few basic details or we get an update on such-and-such. He might say who he is thinking of using in a special role and who is unlikely to play.

Those players are expected to put more effort into training. - To get back into his good books? - To improve. [Henri brings a flipchart closer; its wheels squeak. He flips back a few pages.] Last Sunday our phones vibrated, then pinged, then went into meltdown. Max wanted a dentist. - He had toothache on a Sunday? Did you tell him about cloves? [Sound of Henri sitting - the chair groans - JJ follows his lead.] - Here's how it started. [Sound of Henri tapping on a phone screen.] Read out these texts from the top.

- From Max. Anyone know a dentist? Ten minutes later. Guys, I need a dentist and fast. Ten minutes later. Yo. Dentist. Get me a dentist right now. Ten minutes later. The next person who mentions fucking cloves is fucking FIRED. I don't need your stupid fucking home remedies one of my players has a HOLE in his HEAD and I want him to NOT have a hole in his head and for that I need a dentist RIGHT NOW and if I don't get one I'm going to make your lives miserable.

Turn FIFA off, walk away from your kids, I want a dental professional and I want it NOW. [JJ mumbles.] What on earth... [Normal volume.] Then ten minutes later: I have a dentist. You and I are going to talk about this. Does he mean you, Henri? - That's sent to all. I must confess I thought it was some artificial crisis he had cooked up because he was bored but come the next morning we are all in here waiting to hear a debrief from the Maidstone draw or to discover the training plan for the week.

We had no Tuesday night game so he normally likes to increase the intensity. Instead, we end up with a very angry manager scowling at us, talking about our prize money for the season. - What? I am lost. This is a very confusing conversation. - Imagine being a player. [Henri rises, steps to the window, closes it, and returns. The chair groans once more.] Max tells us that he went to watch the Chester Knights followed by one of our youth teams and one of the boys was off the pace.

Max called him over and the boy - eventually - admitted he had toothache. - Toothache is awful, but it is not such a drama. It could wait till the morning. - I would agree. Except this boy had toothache, he said, for weeks. Max goes to find the mother. She has tried to find her son an NHS dentist but they aren't taking new patients. None. Anywhere in Cheshire.

So she decides she'll cut corners somewhere in the household finances to find the twenty pounds a month needed to pay for private insurance but even the private clinics are refusing new patients. Finding dental care is impossible. Government cuts, the pandemic, Brexit. There is not enough money and there are not enough dentists. This phenomenon is so prevalent there is a term for it - a dental desert. There are people in Chester who drive to Scotland to get an appointment.

The mother's plan is to wait for the tooth to fall out. Plan B is a pair of pliers. - Merde. - At half time, the boys assemble and they think they are going to get tactical advice from the big star, the generational genius. Instead, he quizzes them. Who's your dentist? When's the last time you went to a dentist? He doesn't like what he hears and he turns his attention to other parents. He hears the same stories. The scale of the crisis is hard to describe, JJ.

Your listeners can check out a wonderful article from Le Monde, or if they want to slum it, there was a comprehensive article in The Guardian. While Max was talking to the parents, as you've seen, he's texting around looking for help. One filling for one child. There has to be a way. He hears that it's impossible, impossible, impossible, and finally he does what he does in such situations - he goes apeshit. - Wow. - The Brig steps in. That's our Head of Performance.

He was on a romantic trip with his partner and when they landed, he got all the messages in one go. The boy is whisked to a military base a couple of hours away. They have a dentist who can be persuaded to do the filling. The army guys make a fuss of the boy and he's awestruck and happy. Max clowns around so there's no stress. - In what way? - I heard all this later, you understand? This didn't come up at the meeting. [Chair squeaks.] The boy was scared of the anaesthetic so the dentist said he would give a numbing agent before doing the actual injection and of course, did the injection. Max, apparently, jumped around saying you got played! You got played! All very silly but the kids love it. The boy's troublesome tooth is fixed in minutes, the mother thinks Max is the second coming, and the Brig owes his old mates another crate of whisky. - All wrapped up in a neat little bow. - No. Max is furious.

He doesn't get less mad overnight, he comes to this room steaming. He can't stand still. He's trying to give a presentation but he can't stop his fists from clenching and there are times his jaw is so tight he can't talk. He talks about the next third of the season as being about our cup matches. He has drawn the outlines of three trophies. [Sound of Henri pointing at the flip chart.] We have, potentially, three Cheshire Cup, five FA Cup, and two FA Trophy matches in that time.

There is also the FA Youth Cup, and the women are in multiple cup tournaments. But Max wants to talk about the prize money from the big competitions. In the past, that money went to buy new equipment that benefits the players. We buy cast-offs from bigger clubs. Now Max wants to change that, partly because we don't currently have space for more gear. For this season, he wants to split the prize money in half.

Half for the players, probably in the form of nights out and parties and so on - he'll leave the details to Glenn. - Wouldn't you prefer cash? - Unless we go deep in the FA Cup, the amounts involved would be relatively trivial and eaten up by tax. The other half of the money, Max wants to put into the community. He says he loves that we visit sick kids in hospital and the like, but we can do more. He tells us about Everton's community projects. He is a superfan of what they do, and quotes a statistic called SROI.

- Social Return on Investment. - You know it? - Of course. You spend a pound but you can generate more than a pound in value to the community. - This is why you win awards. The figure for Everton, it is claimed, is twenty-nine pounds of benefit for every pound spent. - That's high. That's very high. - Football clubs have an advantage, Max says. The power of the badge. Someone in Merseyside will join a programme run by Everton football club far more readily than one run by the local council or a random charity.

- Absolutely. - At this point, Max pauses and looks around. My next signing, he says, daring us to laugh, is going to be a dentist. No-one laughs. It's rather scary, how intense he is. I'm happy my girlfriend was not there to see it; she seems to be attracted to a darkness I'm currently too happy to project. Max strides around. Four million children in England have not seen a dentist for a year and some of those kids are my kids. I'm going to hire a dentist and set up a clinic.

Solar panels, kitchen, passing centre back, dentist. That's the Max Best hierarchy of needs. Basic clinic, hundred and fifty grand for equipment. We can add to it as we go. Dentist? Fifty grand a year. Thousand a week. That is going to happen, guys. You, your kids, our women, the young players. We'll have our own dentist. My players don't go round with holes in their head, no way. I've tried that and I didn't care for it. That's a reference to the attack, of course. He slaps the flipchart.

We won't get anywhere near that much in prizes this season but until I've got lobster money, what I'll do, if you agree, is I'll book a clinic. Dentists go on holiday, right? When one's away I'll rent his room. We'll have it for two weeks and I'll hire a d-dude to come and check the teeth of every player on our books and if that goes quick, we'll work with some charity to fill the spots with randos from the nearest estates. You understand me?

We take care of our own and then we use the spare capacity to help out our fans. I don't know what a quick bunch of checkups and simple fillings will cost but the prize money for winning the third and fourth round of the FA Trophy is nine grand. That's a lot of fillings, do you know what I mean? If we get to the third round of the FA Cup, that's a hundred grand just in prize money. A hundred THOUSAND pounds. We'll do a fucking lottery.

One of you pricks can get Jurgen Klopp teeth and we'll do checkups for five thousand locals. Chester Chompers, mate. Smile Like a Seal. He realises he's been ranting for a while so he stops. He does this thing, often, that I find charming. He inspires us, gets the blood pumping, and frets that it hasn't worked. It has worked. James Wise's family is stuck on the far south coast and apparently that's a dental desert, too. Can I bring my kids? Course you fucking can, says Max. You're one of us, you dick.

Aff asks if he can bring some cousins over from Dublin. Didn't you hear what I just said? Yes. There's a flurry of similar requests and Max holds his hand up. He's struck a nerve, which is something a good dentist never does. We'll do a list, he says. Try to get it fair, but there's one way to make sure everyone gets seen and that's to win a few cup matches. That's our top priority, now. He gets back to preacher mode and he paces around saying he's in the mood to kick some fucking ARSE.

I'm getting worked up, Jean-Jacques. I want to get onto a pitch and kick some fucking arse! But there's a surprise. Zach Green. He's an American American. He derailed our season by injuring Max, but he has been trying to integrate. I would say that he believes in Max and Max's methods the least out of everyone, and he's the most likely to grumble and push back. He hates Max's attitude to losing, which is often surprisingly phlegmatic.

So when he speaks, there's a seventy percent chance he'll say something that makes the rest of the group groan. He says, what if the dentist was free? Max narrows his eyes. What nonsense is this? Zach feels the wrath in the room begin to coalesce. He stands up - which is surreal, by the way, no-one else does that - and clears his throat. He looks shifty. My father, he says, is a dentist. Specialises in TMJ, does a lot of cosmetic treatments. He's been talking about coming to England to visit, but ah...

I think he'd be happy to come for a week and be useful while he's at it. He's real good like that. Just so long as he can get to the British Museum at some point. He loves dinosaurs. They're in the Natural History Museum, I tell him. Normally, Max would joke about taking Zach's father to meet Ian Evans, but he stands there staring, quiet and brooding, until he points at Zach and declaims... you're my new vice vice captain! Zach can't believe it. He swells but says he can't promise his father will come.

Max says Chesterness isn't an outcome, it's a process, which I don't think Zach comprehends in its entirety. Someone says if Glenn is the captain and Zach is the vice-vice-captain, who is the vice-captain? Max says the position is currently vacant. Glenn puts his hand up. He says it sounds like people would be happy to skip a piss-up if it meant getting their families healthy. Max says there will be enough money for both if we get some luck with the draw and if we fight tooth and nail in the cups.

And, he adds, you have to pay the guys doing the work because extrinsic motivation only lasts so long. It's ten grand if we beat Mousehole, he says, and I want that fucking money. That's my money. Now go and fucking get it. I apologise to your listeners, Jean-Jacques, because I can't hit the high note like he does it. You have to imagine the determination, the heads held high, the way they rush out without even leering at Brooke. They get changed and have the best session in a long time. I watch it with envy.

I want to score goals in the cup, Jean-Jacques. I want to win for me, for Max's vision, and for all the people who are in pain who can easily be healed. [Pause.] What are you thinking? - Hmm. Only that if I were more cynical, I would note that your manager is obsessed with defending his youth team from predators, and I might think that in this very room he motivated his players in a way that also helps him to attract and retain young stars.

If their only prospect of proper healthcare is to join Chester, they will join, no? If their mother has her root canal treated, they are likely to stay, perhaps, when a bigger club comes calling? You say Zach Green is the player who least believes in Max? What if Max knew his father was a dentist and waited for an incident like this? One where Zach could play at being the hero and get rewarded for it? Some demonstration, isn't it? And what if Max hasn't abandoned his war against the potential new owner?

What if this is part of it? Winning hearts and minds one filling at a time. - Your podcast is listed in the conspiracy theory section, n'est-ce pas? What an imagination. - [Slapping his thigh.] Well. I must say, whatever the motivations, the whole affair is extraordinary. Extraordinary. I hope for the people of Chester that the cognoscenti are wrong and last season was not a flash in the pan. - Tell your media friends that this season is likely to be even more spectacular than the last. - Hmm.

Returning explicitly to the concept of the sound of football... it strikes me that football and dentistry have one sound in common. - Mmm? - The sound of drills. [Pause.] - That is why you win the awards, my friend. That is why you win the awards.