Is anybody else reading TSF's latest (final?) book?
He really, really doesn't like Pulis, it seems!
"If you’d rocked up to our training ground for lunch a few years ago you’d have sat down to boiled brown rice, rock-hard broccoli (allegedly steamed) and either plain white fish or plain chicken breast. A cup of sand would have done wonders for moistening that plate of food. Then when players began drifting off in groups of threes and fours to a local Italian restaurant in town, the manager introduced a £100 fine for those failing to have lunch at the training ground.
Now, when you have players on £30,000 or £50,000 a week, that isn’t a lot of money, and so some players, particularly the foreign lads who treated eating with an almost religious reverence, simply paid the fine every day to escape the food on offer. That’s over £2,000 a month from just one player who did not want to eat at the training ground, all in cash –and we had maybe five or six players who did that, all foreign. I always did wonder what happened to that money, but the players throwing it away never gave it a thought –it was a case of money just making their world move easier again.
The same manager tried to control every single facet of the club, pretty much to everybody’s detriment. The local journalist had to have his articles on the club scrutinised by the manager every day over lunch (unpunctuated prose over unseasoned food) before he could go to print. That is not unheard of, but it was sufficiently shallow and insecure to turn the manager into a joke."
Many other similar anecdotes.
He really, really doesn't like Pulis, it seems!
"If you’d rocked up to our training ground for lunch a few years ago you’d have sat down to boiled brown rice, rock-hard broccoli (allegedly steamed) and either plain white fish or plain chicken breast. A cup of sand would have done wonders for moistening that plate of food. Then when players began drifting off in groups of threes and fours to a local Italian restaurant in town, the manager introduced a £100 fine for those failing to have lunch at the training ground.
Now, when you have players on £30,000 or £50,000 a week, that isn’t a lot of money, and so some players, particularly the foreign lads who treated eating with an almost religious reverence, simply paid the fine every day to escape the food on offer. That’s over £2,000 a month from just one player who did not want to eat at the training ground, all in cash –and we had maybe five or six players who did that, all foreign. I always did wonder what happened to that money, but the players throwing it away never gave it a thought –it was a case of money just making their world move easier again.
The same manager tried to control every single facet of the club, pretty much to everybody’s detriment. The local journalist had to have his articles on the club scrutinised by the manager every day over lunch (unpunctuated prose over unseasoned food) before he could go to print. That is not unheard of, but it was sufficiently shallow and insecure to turn the manager into a joke."
Many other similar anecdotes.
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