After a couple of woeful England performances, the future isn’t looking so bright for Steve McLaren.

But when exactly did his honeymoon period end? Could it have been on his first day at work, at the precise moment that he stepped into the England manager’s shoes? And what was anybody else doing at that historic time?

Imaginary Scenes in London, Moscow, Lisbon, Birmingham and London

Kindly written for Footy-Boots.com by The Village Idiot

Note that this is not a true story. It is made up.

LONDON

As Steve McLaren and Brian Barwick walked down the hall, their feet fell together in time. They had been talking about pension schemes, Health and Safety videos, lunch vouchers and free bus passes, but Steve had taken almost nothing in. He was, in fact, knocked out by the classiness of Lancaster Gate. It was an opulent, modern building with such great attention to detail - little footballs had been carefully embroidered on the plush carpets and all of the womenfolk were gorgeous.
They stopped in front of a heavy oak door.
‘Right, Steve. Here it is. The Lion’s Den.’
‘Oh no. I don’t really want go in there.’ He shot a nervous glance at his new boss.
‘Why ever not?’
Brian pushed the door open and instantly, Steve jumped back, covering his face.
‘Follow me!’
Warily, he opened an eye. The room was actually a huge, state-of-the-art office - not at all what he had been expecting.
‘Your new office, Steve. There’s your desk, your contoured leather chair, an espresso machine !’
Steve poked his head into the room.
‘! a hat stand, there’s the computer, television. Wendy will be able to get you all the tapes of the weekend’s matches. Pens, pencils, crayons. There’s even some of Kevin’s Lego in the cupboard, I think.’ Brian chuckled, then looked at his watch. It was quarter to twelve. ‘So. I expect you have a lot to do then. You probably want to get started. Formations, phone calls, match reviews. We’ve got a press briefing at three.’
Steve nodded. ‘Right.’
Brian smiled encouragingly. ‘I think I’ve remembered everything!’ As soon as he finished his sentence, he clapped a hand to his forehead. ‘Steve! The shoes, the shoes, the shoes. I’ll be back in two ticks.’

_______________________ (more…)