
I miss football. Punditry has been fun, and it's been nice to get away from the stress after so long. But still, I can't get the thought out of my head of perhaps going back...
I called my brother yesterday to congratulate him. Michael had just been appointed manager of Swansea, and I was ecstatic for him. I sort of miss those days, when we'd put on that Denmark shirt together and terrorize every defense we played. I hope I'll be able to do some of his games, we can catch up on the lost time.

When I called him, though, I couldn't help but feel jealous. Why should he be the only one continuing in football? Sure, commentating on games is part of football, and a very enjoyable job, but I wanted to get back to the week in, week out joys of being at a club. I wanted to be a coach, maybe, perhaps a director of football, but mostly, I wanted to be a manager. I'd picked up my coaching badges after retirement, and on the phone with Michael when I confessed by dream, he told me, "Brother, don't rule anything out. Find an opening, an ex player like you will certainly be considered. Who knows, anything can happen. I'm managing in the Premier League, after all!"
I quit pondering my life and stepped out of my study. It was almost 7:00. Mette would have dinner ready soon, and I wanted to check the news. I walked into the living room and glanced at the TV.
Reporter: The report is in, Blackpool manager Ian Holloway has been sacked! After relegation directly after promotion to the Premier League and failing to attain promotion last season again, Blackpool has lost patience with their boss and decided to let him go. The favorite for the job is enigmatic Swindon boss Paolo De Canio. We'll have more on the story when we learn more."

So the post is open at Blackpool, then? "Who knows, anything can happen."
"Time to send an email," I said to myself, suddenly invigorated. Could I possibly get back into football now?