Disclaimer: This story is purely the result of my imagination and in no way reflects real life incidents even though some of the characters are real people.
It's my first attempt at a story so i hope you enjoy.
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“So Keith, why have you sacked Swifts legend Rodney McAree ,after only a year and nine months into his second spell of managing his hometown Club? He managed to finish the last two seasons in 7th place in the Danske Bank Premiership, not a bad record for the Swifts, in fact their highest finish in the league since they finished 5th in 2010.”
The slightly balding Dungannon Observer journalist glared at the Swifts Chairman, Keith Boyd, impatiently waiting for the latter to give his answer. It seemed to him that Boyd had lost his mind. McAree must have walked, surely, there could be no other explanation. The news that McAree was gone certainly had sent shockwaves through the small County Tyrone town, or at least among the 60 or so loyal season ticket holders.
“On behalf of the Dungannon Swifts Board, we would like to thank Rodney for all he has done for the Club. We feel however that the opportunity has arose to appoint a new manager to take this Club to the next level, and that was something we couldn’t pass up” replied Boyd, to the virtually empty room.
“What, have you convinced Martin O’Neill to resign from his Irish Post and come North of the border” sarcastically sneered the local hack.
“No Thomas, but we have got someone who I believe to be equally as good. Someone who has took their team to the very top of Irish football on no less than three occasions. Someone who knows how to win”
“Holy Shit! Who have you got? Roy Coyle..David Jeffery…Stephen Kenny!!” The journos mind was racing; there aren’t that many managers in Ireland who have won the title three times, either side of the Border.
The door at the back of the room swung open an in strode a small bearded figure wearing a baseball cap and a shell-suit top.
“Gentlemen” boomed Boyd, “May I present Dungannon Swifts new Football Manager, former Tyrone GAA Senior team supremo, Mr. Mickey Harte”
The only sound to be heard was that of a slightly balding man collapsing to the floor.

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“So Keith, why have you sacked Swifts legend Rodney McAree ,after only a year and nine months into his second spell of managing his hometown Club? He managed to finish the last two seasons in 7th place in the Danske Bank Premiership, not a bad record for the Swifts, in fact their highest finish in the league since they finished 5th in 2010.”
The slightly balding Dungannon Observer journalist glared at the Swifts Chairman, Keith Boyd, impatiently waiting for the latter to give his answer. It seemed to him that Boyd had lost his mind. McAree must have walked, surely, there could be no other explanation. The news that McAree was gone certainly had sent shockwaves through the small County Tyrone town, or at least among the 60 or so loyal season ticket holders.
“On behalf of the Dungannon Swifts Board, we would like to thank Rodney for all he has done for the Club. We feel however that the opportunity has arose to appoint a new manager to take this Club to the next level, and that was something we couldn’t pass up” replied Boyd, to the virtually empty room.
“What, have you convinced Martin O’Neill to resign from his Irish Post and come North of the border” sarcastically sneered the local hack.
“No Thomas, but we have got someone who I believe to be equally as good. Someone who has took their team to the very top of Irish football on no less than three occasions. Someone who knows how to win”
“Holy Shit! Who have you got? Roy Coyle..David Jeffery…Stephen Kenny!!” The journos mind was racing; there aren’t that many managers in Ireland who have won the title three times, either side of the Border.
The door at the back of the room swung open an in strode a small bearded figure wearing a baseball cap and a shell-suit top.
“Gentlemen” boomed Boyd, “May I present Dungannon Swifts new Football Manager, former Tyrone GAA Senior team supremo, Mr. Mickey Harte”
The only sound to be heard was that of a slightly balding man collapsing to the floor.