I got out of my car in the parking lot at Melwood, slammed the door and pressed the 'lock' button on the key.
I turned around and staring at me angrily was our 63 year-old bus driver, Nick Johnson.
"WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU?!?!"
"The bus is fucking thirty minutes late 'cause of you! WHAT KIND OF MANAGER IS LATE TO HIS OWN TEAM'S GAME? HUH?!"
"We're playing Wolves in a friendly, you twat!"
The manager doesn't know that the team is playing a game? Well, that's a bad start to my managerial career.
"Get your ass on the bus or I'm leaving you here."
I followed the swearing old man to the road.
"Is that really our bus?"
"Nah. Our bus broke down and it's getting fixed at the moment. We borrowed a bus from one of the fan clubs."
I got on the bus and faced the awkward looks from my players and my assistant Rodolfo and prepared to endure 1 hour and 41 minutes of silence.