Evert Lindhom walked through the icy cold halls of Vålerenga Fotball's training building, a notepad grasped firm in his hand. He held a shortlist of players that his club might see interest in, and he was brining it to the club's manager, Kjetil Rekdal, who had signed him on as a scout almost a year ago, at the start of last season. The season had now finished, and the transfer window was about to open.
How Evert Lindholm Got To The Topby Toon
Chapter 1 - The Scout
Evert was young, talented and enthusiastic. He had always loved football, and, despite the fact he hailed from Sweden, he had spent his adult life playing the Norweigan game. Despite his passion for football, he had never made it out of the Semi-Pro leagues in Norway, but he had impressed on a different level- as a coach, and as a scout.
Nobody, to Evert's knowledge, was a better scout than him. He could watch a football player for ten minutes and he would be able to know if they had it or not. That's how he was already working for what was most definately the largest club, in terms of fanbase, in Norway at the tender age of 35.
He had been in constant contact with Rekdal, his boss, since he arrived at Vålerenga. It seemed like Rekdal saw something in Evert. Rekdal always listened to Evert's opinion, and always seemed refreshed and enthused by it. Evert remembered that he had reccommended a slightly unorthodox formation on the evening before a big match, the next day, Rekdal used the formation and Vålerenga won the game.
Evert cleared his throat and rapped on Rekdal's office door. "Mr. Rekdal?" He called. "It is Evert Lindholm, may I come in?" He knew he did not need to be so formal, but he felt it necissary.
"Yes, yes," a call came from the other side of the door. Evert entered and approached Rekdal's desk, at which his boss was sat, clicking away at some e-mails on his computer. "Please, sit," Rekdal gestured to a seat on the alternate side of the desk to himself. "Also, I told you, call me Kjetil, there is no need for formalities here. This is a football club, not a school," he nodded with a smirk.
"I know," Evert smiled, before handing over the shortlist. "I think the position that needs adressing most is the front of the field. I mean, we have other weak areas, but without a goalscorer we are going to struggle. There are two or three free players there that I spoke with who I think we could get with ease-"
Rekdal put the shortlist down without even listening. "Listen," he interrupted Evert. "I am not... well." He sighed.
"Do you want me to get you some water?" Evert asked, raising an eyebrow perturbedly.
"No, no," Rekdal shook his head descicively before putting his hands together and leaning forward. "I don't mean right now. I am sick, and, I am going to need some time off."
Evert's face dropped. "What is wrong, sir?"
"Just an illness, nothing to be worried about my friend, but, nevertheless, I will have to have some time to myself for a few months. I have spoken with the board and they say that I can take a break," he nodded slowly. "In the summer, I will return to manage the club, but in the meantime, I need a replacement."
"Alright, good idea," Evert slowly and slightly reluctantly forced out a nod of agreement. "Have you asked Michael Schjønberg?"
"No, and I am not going to, because, well..." Rekdal cracked a devious smile. "I'd like to give you a shot."
"What?" Evert looked just as shocked as he had the day he was given a job at Vålerenga. "You're saying... me... as caretaker?"
Evert grinned. "I won't let you down, sir."
"You better not."