I was too young. That's all that went through my head as I stepped onto the green grass of the El Molinón. Its 30,000 seats were filled with Rojiblancos shirts. A thunderous rapture of cheers and applause echoed around my head, darting into my ears and filling me with both excitement and trepidation. I dropped down to one knee, grabbed a blade of grass and blessed both myself and the pitch in the name of the lord.
I was only twenty-two. I had never heard of another manager this young in the top leagues, and especially not a manager this young managing in a foreign country. I could only speak basic, GCSE level Spanish and that wouldn't save me here. So I couldn't really speak the language and a lot of the team were older than me. I was going to have to earn their respect.
Managing a professional football team was all that I had ever dreamt of. I stepped into the middle of the pitch and onto the announcement podium. The crowd continued to roar. I heard a mix of nervous boos within the roaring, but I had expected that. Their club had just hired a nobody, after all.
I stepped up to the microphone and took a deep inhale.
"For those of you who don't know. My name is Peter Bard. I only have one sentence to say to you all."
"Nuestro tiempo es ahora."
I waited with baited breath. The crowd roared.