IndexPrologue: Meet Alan Thompson
*Please note that the parts that haven't been published yet may have title changes or new parts may be inserted*
Prologue: Meet Alan Thompson”Alan!” an angry voice came from downstairs.
”Alan!” the voice bellowed.
Alan turned over and tried to cover his ears with his pillow.
-”Alan! Breakfast is ready!” the voice continued.
Slowly Alan sat up on his bed looking around his room. What on earth did he do to deserve to be here? He looked to the wooden dresser by the door; the glass framed clock was showing that it was 8.30 am on a Saturday morning. Alan thought of the football fixtures, “who was playing the early game today? Swansea – Liverpool?” It wouldn’t matter anyway as Alan would do exactly what he has done the past eight weeks, sit in his armchair and watch every game on TV. It wasn’t exactly his armchair nor was it his dresser or even his clock, in fact the only things that were his in the house was the sky+ box, his clothes and some of his books and DVDs. All of his stuff was in a self-storage unit and had been there since his fiancée had thrown him out of the house for not having hovered properly. She would never let him watch his football because that was when Coronation Street, Eastenders, Neighbours, Dallas, Dynasty, Days of our Lives, The Jeremy Kyle Show, and some Korean Sitcom was on.
“What have I done to deserve this?” Alan muttered to himself whilst looking towards the mirror that stood next to bed. The guy looking back seemed like he was past his due date, he had a brown mess at the top of his head which seems more like a dark bale of hay than an actual hairdo. The stubble on his chin must have been at least 5 days old. He must have been carrying at least 2 stone too much which made him look at least 10 years older. He stood there pondering his life, Alan Thompson, 32 years of age, single, broke, and miserable.
His poor physique was what ended up deciding that he should do his coaching badges. He was playing for a local Sunday league team called Hardly Athletic, a good joke at the time he signed up, but quickly realized that it was just a joke. Most of the guys there could run 10 miles, do push-ups for 20 minutes, haul the all the clubs kit on to practice field, and shag the neighbour’s missus without even breaking a sweat. Alan usually spent an entire game on the bench looking on, the few times he actually got on the pitch he was put up as a striker, because that was where he was least rubbish. The only real break that Alan got in the team was when the team started looking for a coach, no one volunteered. At some point in the discussion one of Alan teammates pointed to Alan and said that Alan would be a great coach as he was usually sitting on the bench anyway. Alan accepted on the condition that all players should chip in to pay for his coaching badges. The only thing that was right in Alan’s life was the fact that 2 weeks ago he got his coaching badges.
Alan looked at himself in the mirror and said to himself. “I want to become a football manager!” He thought about the prospect of standing on the touchline at White Hart Lane calling obscure hand signals to the players whilst the crowd was singing his name. He looked at himself intently and said out loud. “You’d be a terrific manager. You’d be the best. Gaffer.” He looked around grabbed his trousers and put them on.
“ALAN!” the voice called from downstairs.
“I’m coming Mum, take it easy!”.