Mixed Emotions
The dugout is anything but comfortable...
January 2004
I'd only been working as a scout for Beira Mar for about a month, probably more around the three week mark before disaster seemed to strike. It was a usual training and I was getting directions from the manager, António Sousa, as to who I'd be scouting next. He informed me to go over the video of our next opponent - Moreirense.
As I walked off I heard yelling. At first I wasn't sure it was coming from the field but a quick glance out of the corner of my eye proved I was incorrect and I saw, funnily enough, the manager in a scuffle... with his assistant!
I ran over and separated them as other players sought to cool them down and get their heads straight. With the assistant manager, however, that was unsuccessful. "I'm done with this!" he yelled. "You're a useless **** and a **** manager!" before leaving.
Sousa dusted himself off and apologised to the team. Training recommenced and I went and studied the clips of Moreirense, as planned.
**
"Listen, Vitor," Sousa the manager called me over. "The chairman has informed me we've run out of staff wages, and I'm not prepared to fire anyone to free up some space." I nodded along but wasn't sure where this was going.
"How do you feel about being my number two? I'll raise your wage by £50 but that's all I can afford for the moment."
"That's perfect," I said, keeping myself together. "Starting immediately?"
"Immediately," he replied.
**
Early in February the match against Moreirense arrived and I'd given my insight to the manager on how they played, how best we'd stop them and where we could exploit any weaknesses. I was sure if we could get our midfielders to win the ball high in the middle of the park we could quickly break on the counter.
Unfortunately, it turned into a miserable evening.
"SHOW SOME PASSION, LADS!" António Sousa yelled from the touchline. I was more reserved and took down some notes about the tactical side of the game and shared them with the gaffer.
But after the first goal, the second came... and then a third. We'd been beaten - comprehensively. I trudged into the training room behind the manager and told the players where I think they went wrong tactically and how they could improve. I was still younger than most of the lads and had played with practically all of them, so they respected me and listened to my opinion.
"If we just take their central midfielder out of the game, their main midfield supply is gone," I explained. "We can work on that on the training ground, good effort lads."
They all went to clean up and I followed Sousa out of the changing rooms and towards the coach. I heard my phone buzz inside my tracksuit and picked it up. The number was unfamiliar and I debated whether the time was right.
The vibration continued and I eventually picked it out of my pocket. "Hello, Vitor Martins speaking," I said.
"Hello Vitor," a deep voice answered. There was a strong Portuguese accent on the other end of the line and one that rung a few bells in the back of my head. "This is...