5.

We arrived at Casa Weaver in the suburbs of Newcastle and Emma ran down the drive to hug me, to check I was in one piece. She'd find and count the bruises later, but right then, I felt unbreakable. Her dad gave us a minute.

"You did it," she said.

"We did it. We did it. The lads were immense. Massive. Unstoppable."

"I wanted to go."

"It's gone; it's over. Finito. Let's move on. You and me. We'll enjoy this weekend, yeah? Two days, like real people. But I want a proper break. A proper break."

"In the summer?"

"No. Soon."

"Oh."

I knew what she was thinking - that I was talking shit. Managers didn't have mid-season breaks. I squeezed her. "Somewhere cheap, though. When's the last time you slept in a tent?"

***

Dinner was Emma, her parents (Sebastian and Rachel), Gemma, and a friend of Rachel's. She was called Agnes and nobody explained exactly who she was. Fortunately, my imagination provided the entire story and I felt no need to check it.

Agnes and Rachel had gone to school together, and were sort of friends in the not-really-friends-but-somehow-always-thrown-together sense. They'd had daughters around the same time and that had repointed the ever-crumbling brickwork of their relationship - it would last another decade. Now their daughters were all grown up, and Agnes's girl - Jennifer, probably - had got engaged to a dentist. Or... some kind of 'influencer'. No, a dentist. And since Rachel knew I'd be coming, she had invited Agnes. Any one of my many titles beat dentist, right? Unless you needed a root canal, in which case no amount of Manager of the Month awards would impress you.

So yeah. Agnes was a weird choice of sixth guest because no-one at the table seemed to like her all that much.

At first, the match against my former club was the only topic of conversation, which was odd since I had no interest in joining in - I only opened my mouth to shovel up soup. The others were telling Agnes about the Judas article and the ensuing hundred hours of drama, with Gemma seeming very well informed about MD's thoughts and feelings. She piled in on my decision not to respond in the media. I wondered if those were her thoughts, or MD's. What was going on there?

Interesting as it was, I let it wash over me. The whole thing was ancient history and if I had my way I would think about it one more time - the last day of the season - and then never again.

"I watched you play," said this Agnes person, and after a long silence I realised she was talking to me.

"On the BBC?" I said, coming back into the room like a languid ghost.

"That's right. Rachel said you'd be on before Strictly Come Dancing. My husband came in and asked what the matter with me was. Said I'd never sat for a football game my whole life and maybes I was a bit old to be starting. I said it's young Emma's friend playing, and he said oh right, and he sat with me. Not long in, he's shaking his head and he says, 'I hope it isn't that one.' Meaning you. Found you a bit theatrical. A bit much."

"Is he a Newcastle United fan?"

"He is, yeah."

"What a shame to disappoint such a paragon of virtue."

Agnes understood this to be a rebuke of some sort, but it was delivered with such handsomeness that she took it well. "Course, he doesn't abide much by all the falling over and rolling around and complaining to the referee. He's a rugby man first and foremost."

"Max is amazing at rugby," snapped Emma, and I was filled with such instant warmth that I was on my feet, behind her chair, wrapping her in my arms before I knew what I was doing. I nuzzled my cheek against hers, let our fingers intertwine.

"He liked the little fella," said Agnes, trying to get back in our good books, even though she didn't know what she'd done wrong.

"Pascal. We like him too. Don't we, bebs?"

Emma relaxed into me. "Max doesn't much care what people think about him. He says. But he loves it when you say nice things about his players."

"I care what you think," I said, reluctant to let go. "We're playing against South Shields, soon. That's up here somewhere, isn't it, Agnes? I'll get you free tickets if you want to see us live."

"Oh, lovely," said the dentist's future mother-in-law, may God have mercy on his soul. We both knew she would never mention the tickets again.

"So you won today," said Rachel, quietly ecstatic with my performance so far. "What does that mean?"

Without moving away from Emma, I said, "Means we're second behind Kidderminster. Four points behind."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Agnes.

I smiled. "It's actually really good." She was such a noob there was no point talking about games in hand or goal difference or my theories about a late-season charge. "We're on course to win the league by fifteen points or so, I reckon. It was a good day."

"Almost perfect," said Sebastian, and it took me a second to realise what he was saying.

I kissed Emma's hand as a presage to returning to my seat. "Right. The team I own lost. Got knocked out of the FA Vase."

"The what?" said Emma.

"The cup."

"The FA Cup?"

"No it's a cup called the Vase."

"The trophy is a vase?"

"No, there are three cups. The Trophy is a different cup to the Vase."

Emma jabbed her spoon handle into the table. "Max."

I smiled again and made my way back to my chair. "It's simple. There are three cup tournaments for different levels of team. Everyone can enter the FA Cup, but really it's for the big teams. Who are the big ones around here? Sunderland and Middlesborough, isn't it? Then there's the FA Trophy. That's what Chester play in. It's for the biggest fish of the small fish. We're playing in that next Saturday. My team, West Didsbury, play in the FA Vase. It's for tiny teams. Tadpoles and smaller. Now, what's fun is that the Trophy and Vase play their finals on the same day. So next year, if Chester and West get to the final, I'll be guest of honour in both games. At Wembley Stadium. I wonder if I'll get two different VIP boxes? I'll need two girlfriends."

"Sorry," said Agnes. "You own a team?"

"Yep."

"The team I watched? You're a player and the manager and the owner?"

"No, I own a different team. They're not on TV. The best player is called Spurgeon. That's his first name."

"Oh."

"Clubs should be owned by the fans," said Sebastian. We'd been all mates in the car but now it was back to taking sly digs at each other in front of the ladies. He was fucking rubbish at it.

"Good job I'm a fan, then. Emma is, too. Aren't you babes? Hummus! Hummus hummus!"

She didn't join in. "Tell us about the match."

"Yeah," I said. "They started strong. Then we sorted them out. Lesson learned. Nuff said."

"Not nuff said! You've barely said anything."

"Please, Max," said Gemma. "Ems was so upset this whole week. I know you're satisfied but we want to share that feeling. D'you know? All we know is what was on social media."

"Don't believe what you read there. That's sort of the point of the whole thing, right?"

Gemma tilted her head. "I'm talking about Chester's official accounts."

I tried to suppress a grin. "What... What did we write?" I hadn't authorised anything, and I'd told Spectrum very, very clearly not to post anything that I hadn't okayed. Too many teams got into trouble from their socials. Napoli were going to lose their hundred million Euro star striker because some pyromaniac in their back office - a Napoli fan! - had posted on the club's official accounts mocking him for missing a penalty. My solution was to post almost nothing, ever, and yeah - do our talking on the pitch.

Gemma smiled at me. I was starting to like those wide, Julia Roberts lips. As happened more and more, I wondered what would have happened if I'd met her without Emma. Could we have...? No, I wasn't thinking straight. It was lack of carbs after the match. I needed some pasta in me, is all.

While I reached for the bread, Gemma showed me the latest post from Chester's account.

ChesterFC: Chat shit get banged.

My lips stretched Roberts-wide of their own accord and I looked up at the spotlights, deeply amused and just a little proud. But I'd have to remind Spectrum of the rules. I didn't want this shit getting out of control. If he did it again I'd revoke his password privileges.

"Maaaaxxx," whined Emma. "I heard the match on Seals Live but Boggy goes hypersonic every time you get the ball. Normally Spectrum explains things but today he was too busy fighting. Tell us about it from your point of view."

"I came, I saw," I said, and returned to pumping soup into my uncultured gob.

"What? What's the last bit?"

"I came, I saw. The rest goes unspoken."

"Does it fuck," said Emma.

"Emma!" complained her mum.

"Maybe," said Sebastian, "there's a match report you could read, love."

I clicked my fingers. "Great idea."

Emma whipped out her phone. I reminded her of the name of the local paper and reporter. Her eyes popped when she struck gold right away. "It's there. Whoa. The match report is called Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Goaled."

"I'm sorry, what?" I said.

"Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Goaled."

My jaw had dropped open. "No no no." I stood and walked around their dining room, hands on my head. "But... but that's genius. That's incredible. Best served. Do you get it? Revenge is a dish that Max Best served... in this match. Best is me. Not an adjective. Goaled instead of cold. Best, me, served his revenge with goals. That's what it means."

"Yes, it's clever," said Gemma.

"It's not clever," I said. "Clever is a pine marten that mugs me off every night but only when I'm alone in the barn. Bastard knows not to mess with Emma's sleep or she'll rip the roof off to get to him. No, that headline isn't clever, it's fucking world-shattering."

"Who wrote it?" said Rachel, with a strange glint in her eye.

"Max's reporter friend Gary. Shush while I read it," said Emma. I skimmed off my soup while Emma skimmed the article in that lawyerly way of hers. Then came the frown. "Very strange match report. It... it doesn't say the name of the other team. Doesn't say when the goals were scored, what the attendance was. It's all about how 'the home team' are a bunch of liars and cheats and they got what was coming to them."

"Send me the link," said Gemma.

"Listen to this," said Emma, bringing her phone closer to her face like she couldn't believe her eyes. "As punishment for throwing their own employee under the bus, Best scored a penalty. Employee? Who's that, Max?"

"Do you remember there was a weird bit at the beginning of the Judas piece - Judas piece? Is that a pun? - about a receptionist?" Emma nodded. "They made it seem like I had her under hypnosis or some crazy shit," I explained to Agnes. "She was just a girl who had a tiny crush on me and they made it into a big deal. Horrible. She doesn't exactly work for the club but she basically does."

Emma nodded and continued reading, "As punishment for bringing his mother into their tissue of lies, Best scored a cowering header."

"Towering header," I corrected.

"Right. Towering. As punishment for insulting his beautiful girlfriend, Best scored a beautiful third goal." She closed her eyes. "I've never been called beautiful in a newspaper before. Does that make it official?" She looked back at her screen. "The revenge continued, as Chester's white hot fury melted away the low tactics of the opposition, so that soon the home team even lacked the chops to cheat, and their abject, pigeon-hearted efforts in the last twenty minutes were played in front of three empty stands. The home fans had scurried from the stadium, as timid as their players, having been taught a harsh lesson in football, truth, and justice." She blinked. "It's all like this. Is this real? Listen to this for an ending: Winners in silence take their bows, losers in disgrace send in the cows."

"What the what?" said Gemma.

I mopped up the last of the soup with a bit of bread. "They let the grass grow long to try to stop us playing. You get used to it, but you have to force every pass. It builds up fatigue in your muscles, makes it more likely you'll get injured. It sounds like gibberish to you but that's a deadly line. Their fans will take it as a slap to the face. I can imagine a lot of Send in the Cows t-shirts being sold, for example from the website sendinthecows dot co dot uk which was registered earlier today."

"They grew the grass?" said Rachel, and she looked proper angry.

"Yeah," I said.

"Send in the cows, my God." Emma didn't know what to make of it all. "Pigeon-hearted efforts? That's mean to pigeons."

I looked at her father and raised an eyebrow. He squashed his lips together.

"What's going on?" said Rachel.

"Nothing, dear."

"Emma, what time was that article published?"

"What? Er... about twenty minutes ago, it says."

"Huh."

"What?"

But Rachel remained silent, leaving it for her daughter to put all the clues together. "Max! You've read this. But how could you have read it if it was just published?"

"He wrote it," said Gemma, giving me a sly look. I couldn't quite keep my poker facer on.

Emma blinked and after a few seconds, folded her arms. "Oh! Are you joking, now? Are you joking? All that stuff you told me about not responding, not replying, and you've done it. You said you wouldn't lash out, but you've written a whole newspaper article!"

I swallowed my last piece of soupy bread. "That wasn't me. That was Gary Beswick."

Sebastian picked up his wine. "Max wrote it in the car. Or I should say he read it aloud in the car. He'd written most of it beforehand. Before the match, even. Like he knew exactly how the match would go."

"Witchcraft," said Emma, uncrossing her arms so she could cross her fingers in front of her face.

Sebastian was nodding. "It's one of the craziest things I've ever witnessed, and I once watched a drunk try to unlock what he thought was the front door of his house but was, in fact, a postbox."

I shrugged. "It was pretty obvious how the match was going to go. I made some notes, sure, some ideas for phrases. An option for the title, perhaps. When it came time to craft it, your dad chipped in. We had a bit of a bicker when he insisted I should use obfuscate instead of blur. And he was adamant about pigeon-hearted. I let him have that one, even though I didn't really believe in it. I like pigeons. People who don't like pigeons don't understand pigeons. Pigeons are unbelievable. Now, if you'd said magpie-hearted..." This was another dig. The nickname for Newcastle was The Magpies.

Emma read through it again and pointed out the obvious. "But Max, though. This doesn't address the Judas thing. What about the fans? The sponsors? The parents of the young players? You need to reassure them."

I shook my head. "People who need to know, know. Anyone who believes shit with no proof can do one. I've said this twenty times. You can't fight lies with the truth. But, look, I had a think and decided I'm going on that podcast. The one with the guy you wanted to sue. I'll set some ground rules. They're not allowed to say the D-word, things like that. I'll let them raise one or two points about all this Judas stuff. But I want to respond my way. Positive. When they go low, we go high. The future's bright, the future's Chester. The best revenge is scoring a perfect hat trick. The best revenge is living well. Take your pick."

Long silence in the room while Rachel and Agnes brought our mains. Nice cut of meat, some veg. No doubt they'd asked Gemma what footballers ate and so we were getting the Henri Lyons version.

"So we won," said Emma, thoughtfully. "Justice was served. The truth is out there, sort of. You've messed up his plans by reacting in the most Max way, which is to do the opposite of what people expect. And what? He's getting sacked and we don't need to think about him again?"

"Depends what happens in January. They are the best team on paper. I smashed them pretty good today so that could send them into a tailspin, but it's poss they'll recover. I can't imagine they'll give him more budget for transfers but it's a crazy old world."

"So what happens next?"

"Next we beat Buxton on Tuesday. Then the FA Trophy, which as you know is different from the FA Cup and the FA Vase. Then we've got two very tricky league games." I rubbed my hands through my hair. "It just keeps coming. I've got three major problems." I bit my thumbnail for a while. "One. Teams who all-out-defend against us. It only needs a few to get away with it to cost us the league. Two. I can't get the staff I need. Three. I've hit a plateau in my recovery. It's all so relentless, games every three days, it's hard to rest, it's hard to think. At some point I need a break. A proper one, where I can really switch off."

"Then have one," said Rachel.

"It's not that easy. Football managers don't go on holiday mid-season."

"That's right," agreed Sebastian. "It's not done. It'd be the end of his career if he popped off to France for a winter break while his team kept playing."

"Hmm, that's not what I'm worried about," I said. "I'd go on a break. Don't really give a shit if people like it or not. I need a break, end of discussion. The problem is, who'd do the matches when I was away?"

"John Smith," said Emma. "Your assistant manager."

"No."

"Jackie."

"Too soon."

"Vimsy."

"No."

"So what are you thinking?"

Sebastian was offering me more wine, but one glass was enough of a treat. I took my glass to the tap and rinsed it out so I wouldn't be tempted to drink more. I leaned against the sink and smiled. "The problem is we're tier six so anyone good will want a job at a bigger club. We don't have anything to offer that they can't get somewhere much higher up, where they'd get much more money and get to work with better players. So why would someone good drop down loads of divisions? It's impossible." I made my way back to the table and started cutting up my piece of beef. It cut smooth. "That's where my mind was at. But then... Then I had the craziest fucking idea."

***

The next day, Emma took fifteen minutes in the morning to stitch my hat trick to the end of the inspirational tekkers recovery video. She wanted to end on the towering header because her dad told her that was the best goal, but I gently insisted she should end with the spinning chip, because the degree of difficulty was much higher and because it was thematically closer to the kick ups I’d been trying to do in Tenerife.

She chose the music, posted it on her socials, and then we went to look at fancy suits until I got bored, which was quite soon after we entered the shop.

***

In the next couple of weeks I went grinding, centring my efforts around Manchester so I could pop into West to check on Vivek, hang out with Ziggy, and see my mum (obviously. You don't believe everything you read, do you?). I also made time for extra sessions with Cody Chambers, but they were disappointing. I was having to fight incredibly hard to gain tiny improvements in my skills. I was starting to feel stuck.

And it wasn’t just a feeling - I had some hard data to prove it.

I’d been making steady progress with the Airofit breathing trainer, increasing my lung capacity from 3.3 to 3.8 litres in next to no time. But in the six weeks since, I’d only improved to 4.1 litres and the number wouldn’t budge even though I used the trainer twice a day.

One of the problems was my playing style - I did a little bit of everything. If there was, indeed, a cap on my CA, then not only had I hit that cap, but I'd hit it with a Jack-of-all-trades build. High on passing and technique, with below average ratings in heading, free kicks, stamina, and so on. I could function as a quality DM for the level, but if I wanted my flair, skills, and long shots back I'd have to find a training loophole or buy a perk that would let me use Bench Boost in every match.

I very much doubted the curse would make the mistake of offering that.

It was on one of my trips to Manchester that the three-match ban for 'serious foul play' dropped, I simply shrugged. Whatever.

A reduction in my playing time was not necessarily a bad thing. It meant that getting the XP needed to buy Parasight would be easy if I went to enough high-level matches, and fortunately I was able to get into a couple of Women's Super League games at the Death Star in Mordor.

Yeah, getting experience points was a lot easier than finding talented staff willing to drop down a few levels...

***

Monday, 27 November

J: Hello and welcome to a very special episode of Deva Victrix. I'm J, your host - solo - and with me in this very fancy studio is the last guest we ever thought we'd get. Max Best is here!

Max: Yep.

J: We've also got Chester's Managing Director, who we used to know as MD MD.

MD: Hello, everyone, and may I take this opportunity to say how pleased I am to be here.

J: You got your name cut in half. You're just MD now.

MD: That was Max, I think.

Max: Communication is abbreviation.

J: We've also got the men's first team's assistant manager. John Smith, AKA The Brig.

Brig: Good afternoon.

J: Max, what's going on? What are we doing?

Max: You've got that sore throat, still? We'll do most of the talking. How about that?

J: Sounds like the right way round. The listeners get enough of me. I'm sure they'd rather hear your voice.

Max: Er... the basics. You guys went tonto after a recent match in the north-east.

J: The Darlington game. [long pause] Oh, sorry. The D-word game. The recent match in the north-east. Right. Right.

Max: You went tonto, full 36-hour bender, ran down your immune systems and caught that mega-flu that's going round. Knocked you right out, didn't it? You've not podded since. So about then, I said I wanted to come on. Reduced my fee from six thousand pounds to zero.

J: Ha.

Max: Don't laugh at that. I'm taking the piss.

J: I mean, yeah. I know.

Brig: What's that story?

Max: When I started here, they invited me on and I said I'd do it for six grand. Obviously a joke but they took it seriously like all -

MD: Max.

Max: Ugh. Now, the idea of talking to all three of you muppets at once was, just, nah. No thanks. So I thought, let's do it my way. And this is my way, isn't it?

J: Tell the listeners.

Max: Probably I'll be the one giving the orders, I reckon. So your normal setup is dire. Three drunks in a pub. It's garbage. I get you can't bung three grand on top microphones and all that, but it's like one of you headbutts the mic once per minute, one of you rubs it with a cheese grater for an hour. I've never been able to listen to more than three minutes of your show, even the episodes where you were slandering me.

J: Wait -

Max: So I've asked Boggy to let us use his space from his day job. What is this, Cheshire Old But Gold one-oh-six point nine? It's nice, isn't it? Holy shit, take your hand away from the microphone. Are you serious right now? Do not touch it. Oh my God.

J: Yeah, it's just, yeah. Habit.

Max: Proper studio, check. Good audio, check. Superstar guest, check. B-lister sidekicks, check. Boggy himself is in that booth doing whatever. This will be the greatest podcast in history. There are three guys on your show normally. I call you Huey, Louie, and Dewey.

J: Which one am I?

Max: Louie. The one that hates me.

J: I don't.

Max: Sorry, something's in my pocket, here. Annoying me. Can you hold that a second?

J: Sure.

Max: You got served.

J: I... what?

Max: Tell the listeners what's in your hand.

J: Er... envelope. It's got the name of a company on. Weaver, Weaver... oh shit.

Max: Open it.

J: I don't want to.

Max: You have to. It's the law.

J: No... [paper crackling]. Oh God, oh fuck, oh shit. Wait... What's this?

Max: What?

J: It's blank. It's just a piece of blank A4.

Max: Oh. Guess I'm not suing you then.

J: Oh, fuck! I'm sweating. Why would you do that?

Max: That's a prank, bro. I'm getting revenge on people spreading lies about me. I'm not interested in suing fans of the club, but just so we're clear, call me a grifter again I'll have your house.

J: I didn't. I won't. I mean -

Max: That could be a good business model. Move from club to club, some guy chats shit about me, gets banged in court. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat, that's a good line, isn't it? Because rinse means 'extract all money from'. All right. That was satisfying. So, listen, J. Top tip. If you slander someone, don't record it and voluntarily upload it to millions of servers worldwide. Those episodes are still online. You need to take them down. Today. Do not post this until you delete those episodes. Boggy, don't give him the files.

MD: He's right, J. It's bad for the club. You can't suggest financial misdealings when we're trying to get new sponsors and build the brand, you just can't. And it's really unfair to Max. Really unfair.

J: Holy fuck.

Max: You need a minute?

J: I saw my life flash in front of my eyes.

MD: You're a season ticket holder, aren't you?

J: Yeah. Since I was 15.

Max: Did you ever see Smasho and Nice One?

J: No, missed them.

Max: Oh.

MD: Which stand?

J: The McNally with my mates. Getting a bit long in the tooth for it, now, but going to the main stand is... it's like you're officially old, now, isn't it? We're all clinging on to the McNally for as long as poss.

MD: I grew up on the McNally, myself, but soon as I got a good job moved to the main. I was a bit pompous back then.

J: Turned out all right for you, though, didn't it? Watching from the box and all that. Nice and warm.

MD: I wish I'd stayed a few more years, let my hair down.

J: Can't see you ending up in the firm, scrapping against Wrexham's lot.

Max: Guys, you can do a hooligan episode any time. Let's talk about me.

MD: [tutting]

Max: We're eleven minutes in, there's been one half-decent prank but no actual content. People want podcasts to get to the meat. We're still doing the stupid introductions! For the listeners, I chose J from the three hosts because he's the one that doesn't like me. You can't say I'm here for an easy ride. We're going to talk about the matches that this podcast missed. Then we'll assess the state of the squad. And we'll finish by talking about the short-term future of the club, in which I will hint at some shocking developments that will appal everyone in this room except for the Brig.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

MD: What?

Max: Let's clear that up. Brig, why are you here?

Brig: I thought the fans might like to hear from me.

Max: No, you thought you'd come, say almost nothing, and when someone like J says why does that guy never talk to the fans you can say you went on Deva Victrix.

Brig: You understand me very well, sir.

Max: And MD, why are you here?

MD: Same as John, really. But also because you insisted. I thought I might keep you out of trouble.

Max: Good luck with that. J, you were at the match against my former club. Is that right?

J: Yes. That was amazing.

Max: So you saw the way we didn't celebrate the goals and all that. We were so focused on playing. Just play, nothing else.

J: It was so strange. We were trying to find the word to describe it. Best we came up with was 'controlled'.

Max: Okay, that'll do. It was a very controlled performance. These players, though, they're like mustangs. Wild ponies, the lot of them. They want to roam and frolic and flick their hair. What's the word for the thing where they rise up on their hind legs and swish their hair around? I squashed them into little pens for one match only. A couple of days later we played Buxton. Were you there?

J: Yeah.

Max: Don't come to matches when you've got an infectious disease, mate. Jesus Christ. We've got players out sick. Is that because of you?

MD: Max.

Max: I wasn't sure what was going to happen against Buxton. What sort of hangover would the players have? Like... you can tie a mustang to a wheel and make him... plough?... corn? But that's, er, you could break his spirit or something. The lads, though, they weren't sulky or anything, not in the slightest. I have to say they were right there with me against my former club, and then they let loose against Buxton.

Brig: I did suggest it would happen that way, sir.

Max: You did. But it could have gone the other way.

Brig: It could. That's true. And pigs might fly south for winter.

J: We won six-nil. It was never in doubt.

Max: It was in doubt. Everything comes with a cost. You can bully or bribe a player into running twice as far on Monday, but then he can't even walk on Tuesday. You've got to be thoughtful. Six-nil was amazing. I would have been happy with a scrappy one-nil. Buxton were unlucky because they had a couple of players out and we got an early goal, but wow. The lads were ready to go. All I had to do was point to the pitch and off they went.

J: I heard you don't do much screaming and shouting anyway.

Max: What's the point? These guys aren't babies. Most of them were with Ian Evans. They know about duels and all that. They come ready to play. My job's to tell them how to win, not how to thump their chests. If they don't perform, I'll let them know.

J: We had great performances from Trick and D-Day.

Max: Yep. Anyone want to say anything more about Buxton?

MD: I'd like to say, as a fan, that it's amazing you want to whizz past that game. We're not used to winning six-nil around here. In other seasons, it'd be our best result. J, this is what it's like working with Max. He'll rave about a two-nil loss and be absolutely unmoved by scoring six. He doesn't think about football like you or I.

J: That's why I'm glad we're doing this. It's good to know what's going on at the top of the club.

MD: What are you doing?

Max: I'm thinking if there's a way I can connect the Buxton game to the things I need to say at the end.

MD: What things?

Max: [sigh] We're not at the ennnd. This should come in the 'next steps' bit. Here's a sneak preview. I have three challenges. Three problems I need to solve to keep this club on an upward trajectory. Okay? Three things. Ah, I've got it. Ahem. So, J. MD. You know that Buxton match? The players were fit and fresh, they'd hyped themselves up, they wanted to release all that tension, they wanted to celebrate goals and run around and do knee slides and all that?

MD: Yeeeees?

Max: Well, I didn't need to be there that day, did I? I had a two-day break with my girlfriend, but I could have spent the whole week away if someone had done the Tuesday game. Bearing in mind I woke up from a coma and have been working seven days a week since. The Buxton match would have gone the same, if, for example, I was in a tent in Scotland reading comics.

MD: Maybe we should talk about this off-air.

Max: There's nothing to talk about. This is me telling you I'm not going to stand there for 46 matches every season. No way. So we need a solution for that. And I've found one.

MD: What is it? Who is it?

Max: I'm not saying today. Today's about reminding everyone of how awesome I am and how all my decisions turn good in the end.

MD: John, do you know about this? What he's planning?

Brig: I do. I'm sure there will be some, er... puzzlement, but the only person who should be offended is me, and I'm not. The club will benefit.

Max: Ah, this is going well, now. I can feel it. Buxton, six-nil. Bosh. Up next, Lancaster City in the FA Trophy. Semi-pro team at home. Potential banana skin, but I felt I could rotate the team in a big way. Ben back in goal, Trick and D-Day starting again, Andrew Harrison in midfield. Tony up front. Really trying to rest players like Aff and Glenn who are going to play most games.

J: It was a fairly subdued day. Kind of a comfortable win where you don't push the boat out.

Max: I want to go full throttle every game, I really do, but we have to be realistic. The squad is small and players will conserve energy.

J: Oh, I meant it as a compliment. It's like MD said. We haven't had that feeling for a long time. Two-nil up and they're not coming back. That's...

MD: Relaxing.

Max: We have good control at the moment. I'm happy with how that feels.

J: The Lancaster manager was serving a seven-match stadium ban.

Max: Right. I forgot about that. It didn't help them, but realistically... didn't make a difference. See? He could have had a week off. Enjoyed himself. I hear Devon is nice this time of year.

J: There were some people saying the manager was dressed as the mascot and he was giving them instructions from inside the suit.

Max: I mean, obviously that's exactly what happened.

MD: Max, don't say things like that. The official position of Chester Football Club is that we didn't see the manager inside the stadium and as far as we know, Lancaster were in full compliance with all FA rules and regulations.

Max: Lancaster don't even have a mascot. And you don't bring your enormous owl mascot to away games!

Brig: It was a frog.

J: Did you tell the ref or anything?

Max: No. It was funny. Then we had two nail-biting matches against Alfreton and South Shields.

J: Hang on. We've missed something.

Max: The Cheshire Cup?

J: Your ban.

Max: Ban. It's clever, really. You give me a three-match ban, but the press release says I'll miss the FA Cup Second Round. But when you look at it, the third match of my ban is the Cheshire Cup. So we've got to decide if I risk playing in the FA Cup or not. If I play and we win and someone turns round and says, nope, invalid player, you're outta here... It's no good progressing if they kick you out of the competition.

J: Why don't you check?

MD: We've checked. We hear different things every time.

Max: They're winding us up. Sending us round in circles. The Cheshire lot say the Cheshire Cup counts as a serious game, but the national FA keep repeating that the third match of my ban is the Walsall game. Trust me, it's a four-match ban disguised as three. I'm not going to risk it. Nah... If someone wants me to stop playing but can't be too overt about it, this kind of thing is the way to do it. It is literally fiendish.

J: So you're definitely not playing against Walsall?

Max: [sigh] No. Not that it matters. I'm dogshit.

J: What?

Max: Never mind. Where was I? Okay, we're on a winning run. Seven wins in a row in all competitions. Not bad, right? Then we go to Alfreton and it's a totally different team to what I was expecting. That was a shock because I'd played against them in my first full match for my former club and they were weak. That was in the FA Trophy and I knew they'd rested some first teamers. Then over the summer they changed manager and he brought some of his favourites in. They're good, now! Big turnaround over there. They still played 4-5-1 - our scout confirmed that much - and they made it hard for us in midfield. We were a bit off the pace, bit sluggish.

J: Did something go wrong? Could you have changed the tactics?

Max: Tactics were fine. We had 16 shots and they had 8, something like that. We lacked a bit of spark, is all, and they did us on set pieces and held firm.

J: Gutting.

Max: Yeah don't like losing but overall I was pleased. Two things. One, sometimes you have those games. So, okay, you play bad but you're still on top. I'm quite happy to see that. It's not like we had players on four out of ten, looking lost, doing stupid things. No, it was fine. Sometimes fine isn't enough, and that's where you credit the opposition. And that's the second thing. Seeing Alfreton that good I think will really help us this season. They'll take points against the other challengers, too. Kidderminster still have to go there. Anything you want to ask about Alfreton?

J: What would you do different if you could replay it?

Max: Honestly, nothing.

Brig: The illnesses and injuries were disruptive.

Max: We had eleven players and five subs. It's my job to do something with them. Of course it's easier if you've got your whole squad but Alfy had injuries and suspensions, too. The way we set up was our best chance of winning. Sometimes there's a bad bounce, the ref doesn't see someone pinning your goalie, something like that. It was a good game and the better team on the day won. Absolutely no problem with that.

J: We'd have won if you hadn't been suspended.

Max: I'm not sure about that. I don't think it would have made much difference.

J: It would.

Brig: He isn't fishing for compliments.

Max: We need to win matches where I'm not available.

MD: We do.

Max: I started to get the feeling some players and fans think I'll come off the bench like a genie and do all kinds of mystical shit. I can't do that. There's 21 other guys in the first team squad. Every one of them needs to be thinking and acting like a match winner.

MD: A lot of players are scoring and assisting.

Max: I'm talking about a game like Alfreton where it's all okay but someone thinks, shit, it's my turn and gives me a nine out of ten performance. That's the next level for this team, but we can talk about that in a minute. There's one more match to mention. South Shields. Another match where I got to spend a couple of days up in sunny Newcastle.

J: You played 4-2-4 away from home. There was a lot of chat about that. People calling you naive.

Max: We were two-nil up at half time. Our collapse had been coming for days. That would have happened with any formation.

Brig: Max wasn't happy with the performance after our second goal went in. There was shouting.

Max: Didn't work, though, did it? Shields scored two quick goals and it took us half an hour to get our heads right. It's so annoying, sometimes. That's why I always want us to attack. Two goals isn't enough. Score a third. Done that? Great. Three isn't enough. Keep going.

J: So that was a mentality thing, not a tactics thing?

Max: Tactics thing? I switched to 4-4-2 as soon as I saw they'd checked out. The tactics are mint, mate. That one was the mentality, yeah. I told them South Shields were good. Didn't I, Brig?

Brig: You did.

Max: But they wouldn't have it. Newly promoted side, struggling. Yeah, it's a been a step up for them but they're really good. They have some quality players, I can promise you that. Half time, I was fuming. Fuming. We did a tag team of shouting. Me, the Brig, and Vimsy. Couldn't get through. It was one of those days I'd have subbed off the entire team if I could.

J: At two-nil up?

Max: The score doesn't matter. You don't throw your standards to the floor like it's a dirty towel. Okay, maybe if it's four-nil and the other team want to go home, fine. I don't like it, but fine. Two-nil against a hungry team? That's moronic. I was fuming. It's still making me mad, now. It's good I couldn't play that one because there would have been punches thrown.

J: If I was a player I don't think I'd ever know where I stood with you.

Max: I think it's clear. There's a match where you try your best and it doesn't quite click. No problem. There's a match where you're playing great but you do your own thing. Veto. Problem. Do as you're told. There's a match where you're playing great and you choose to stop. Big problem. What's your day job?

J: I'm a mason.

Max: Mmm. Looks easy, but it's not, right?

J: Yeah. Everyone always tries fixing their own walls after a storm. How hard can it be? It's just bricks. Then they call me.

Max: You know when you've done well and you know when you've half-arsed a job. Right?

J: I never half-arse a job.

Brig: His customers are never disappointed.

All except Max: [laughter]

Max: What's happening?

MD: It's a masonry joke.

Max: No more jokes that I don't understand. But if you ever did half-arse a job and I said, hey, this isn't good enough, you'd bluster and defend yourself but you'd know I was right. You've got to realise that I know exactly what my players can do, what they should be doing, and whether they're doing it or not. That to me is as clear and obvious as when some idiot puts a brick in sideways.

J: All the bricks go in sideways.

Max: I should sue you for that joke.

MD: We won that match in the end, however. Which made it six wins out of seven since the Kidderminster game, with two cup wins in that period, too. It's really impressive, Max.

Max: I like that we're getting wins against top seven sides. We're ahead of where I thought we'd be. Okay that's the reviews of our recent matches. Let's take a break, have a cup of tea, and when we come back I'll reassure you about the state of the club and then scare you about what's coming. Good?

***

J: Just talking to Boggy there reminded me of something the fans loved. You had a bit of a run-in with the BBC.

Max: I don't like that framing. I love the BBC. Forget whether you think they're left or right. Imagine this country without it. This is a third-world country with two world class organisations, the Premier League and the BBC. I've been reading about this show they did. Ghostwatch. Did you all see that?

MD: I remember it. I was 15. I didn't watch it, I read about it and thought it sounded naff. I regretted it - people talked about it for days.

J: What was it?

MD: It was a ghost story, but with famous presenters and broadcast as though it was all live and happening. People were really scared.

Max: There was a scene early on when they were in the so-called haunted house. They were in the girl's bedroom where the ghost was most often seen. The presenters were chatting away saying oh well, there's nothing there now. Except the ghost is right there in front of the curtains. You, the viewer at home, can see it but no-one in the show is reacting to it. That's genius. They scared the shit out of the whole country and they got five hundred thousand complaints.

Brig: Five hundred thousand?

Max: I know, right? I'm obsessed by the whole thing. What other country could do that? You need a national broadcaster willing to do something loads of people are going to hate. You need great actors who can switch from serious to jokey, credulous to sceptical. You need great writers, actors, technology, and people who value television as an art form. We're so lucky.

MD: I'm not sure you should take your inspiration from a show that made a lot of people unhappy enough to phone and complain.

Max: If everyone likes what you're doing, you're doing it wrong.

J: Do you believe that?

Max: I have to. If we don't keep pedalling, we'll fall off the bike.

J: So you want people to complain about you?

Max: It's more that if I do what needs to be done, there will be complaints. There were complaints about Pascal. For example, from you, J.

J: I'm happy to say I was wrong.

Max: There were complaints about Youngster.

J: I'll hold my hands up.

Max: People have complained about the Brig, about turning the music off in the stadium, about using Magnus so much, about the Triplets, about me spending time on the women's team, about not playing a striker against Salford. It's just endless. If I did something that made everyone instantly happy I think I wouldn't be able to sleep. I'm not trying to piss you off but if you are pissed off, that seems like a good sign. Someone might look at things you've said, J, and think the secret of life is doing the opposite.

MD: Max.

J: I'd love to offer a defence against that...

Max: I think I was saying I loved the BBC. Seriously, without the beeb this country would be uninhabitable. What I said about them wasn't political, it was wipe your shoes before you come in my house, know what I mean?

J: Nobody puts Boggy in the corner. We love it when you say things like that; it shows you get the club. But you don't do it often enough. You're aloof.

Max: I'm busy.

MD: I was interested in my reaction, if I can get pompous again. My first thought was about the money. The financial future of the club.

Max: Which is right, mate. You've got to do that.

MD: Right, but as J says, it shows you get the club. So how am I opposed to that?

Max: I should be more diplomatic.

MD: I didn't like being on the wrong side of the argument. My first thought should have been for Boggy.

J: So are we still in the BBC's bad books?

MD: No. We weren't the only small club with grievances about the TV companies. Max opened the floodgates and a lot of club directors added their voices. A lot of accusations of rudeness and staff feeling belittled. I got a call from a lady at the BBC. She clarified that many of the workers are contractors and she would remind them in no uncertain terms that they were guests at clubs.

Max: She didn't like being called a dick when she hadn't done anything wrong.

J: She hired dicks.

Max: That's true.

MD: She wanted to interview Boggy and do a little piece on him that they'd show before the next round. A peace offering, you might call it.

Max: But Boggy turned them down. Didn't you? He's nodding. I think he's sex on legs but he's camera shy. So it was a storm in a teacup and a good result all round.

Boggy: They're not showing Chester so it makes no sense to have a piece about me before the match they do show.

Max: [whispering] Did you know Boggy could talk?

J: [whispering] No. [normal] Were you disappointed not to be picked for the live coverage? We're the giant killers. We must have been close.

Max: Would you have picked us? It's not a glamour tie, let's be honest.

J: Especially if you're not playing.

Max: I might wear something glamorous.

J: Your clobber is really bad.

Brig: [cough]

Max: In my former club all the kids were asking their mums for the Max Best hoodies, and the mums were ecstatic because they're dirt cheap. So I kind of got stuck dressing like this.

J: Really?

Max: Yeah. I don't mind. It's one less decision to make. If you're rich enough to laugh at me for how I dress, good for you. If your kid rushes to the cheapest thing in the shop and says 'daddy can I have this?' I mean... you're welcome. Shit clobber? It's not something you can hurt me with. Clobber, trims, drips, who cares? Well, I care about trims. Some of the haircuts in this place are genuinely disgusting. That said, it has been suggested that if I look a bit sexier against Walsall that could help us attract more TV deals in future. I had a look at some fancy suits but I'm undecided so far.

J: We won't be live, though.

Max: No but they still film it all. They show the highlights. Okay, I think I wanted to talk about the state of the club.

J: Okay, okay. But hold on. While we're still doing the past. By far the most common questions we got were about the article from your former team.

Max: Right.

J: You don't want...

Max: I'm kind of done with that. I was done with it before it even happened. What's the, like, number one question?

J: Just, sort of, which bits are true? I know you don't want to talk about it. I think I understand that. Everything I've heard says the whole thing was a tissue of lies. So why defend yourself? I get it. But... it's really the most asked question from the listeners.

Max: Ask me one specific question and I'll see how I feel about it.

J: Let me get...

Max: Don't touch that microphone.

J: You work with people mentioned in the article, like Henri, and, like, what do they think about it all? Not, like, is it real because obviously it isn't but does it affect your relationships?

Max: I think it brought some of us closer together. I'd already told Henri everything. I'd told MD almost everything. MD, right, I was all ready for him to tell me off or whatever, but he was clever. He flips it round. He says, we're here if you need us. If you need someone to talk to we'll organise it.

J: Like a therapist?

Max: I guess. That's what you meant, right?

MD: Yes.

Max: So he's being all kind and supportive, and that makes me want to tell him point by point my side of it. He's damned clever, sometimes. If he has time to think about something, he's great. Anyway, it was immediately clear I didn't need to worry about being sacked or anything like that. And we could have a proper chat about how the sponsors would react, or the parents of youth team players or whatever. He wanted me to do something like this right away, but I wasn't into it. Do my talking on the pitch, and by the way, what do their sponsors think? What do their youth team players think? Because who's looking out for their careers? Seems to be me more than anyone working at that football club. Right? That's how a parent could read that article. Yeah, my former club shot themselves in the foot big time, because there are tons of people in football who are fucking pissed. Like, proper pissed. The owner of Tranmere wants to withhold payment of the transfer fees until the club issue an apology. A protracted, public legal battle? That is terrifying for them.

MD: Will he really hold back the money?

Max: He doesn't like being mugged off by some lowlife worms. So the worm king better be looking over his shoulder because how can the club apologise until they've sacked him and thrown him under the bus? Oh! I'll say one way the article was effective. The entire thing had one main goal, and that's to make sure I would never manage that team. And believe me, mission accomplished.

MD: We hope you'll stay here, Max.

Max: Until we lose five games in a row. Then you'll have binned me off before the final whistle has finished peeping.

MD: Come on.

Max: I'm just saying. I know exactly how safe my position is.

J: Hang on, Max. I don't want to change the topic just yet. Tell us how you felt when you read the article.

Max: [blowing air through cheeks] First read through I was thinking, is that it? We knew something like that was coming because people told me they'd been tricked into talking by a worm. I read it again and that time was sort of mathematical. Like, false, false, false, true but spun, false, true and it makes me look good, and so on.

J: What was true but made you look good?

Max: Me asking for training to be harder. I mean, come on. Standards. The third time I read it was more from an outsider's point of view. Like, what's my girlfriend going to think? What's MD going to think? The worst part was about the receptionist. She used to blush when I went in and that is the entire story. I've had those little crushes myself so I know what it's like. I kept wondering if her friends were teasing her about it, stuff like that. And I kept wondering how that detail even got included. Like, I remember the first conversation we ever had. I said, 'Hi, I'm Max, I'm here to see David Cutter.' And she said, 'I'll get him for you.' And that was by far the most we ever spoke. So some player, some worm, must have talked to her and she's gone 'oh what's Max like?' or something like that and he's realised. He's got jealous and remembered it. It's so pathetic. But then for the club to read the text and say, yeah, let's throw her under the bus to make Max look bad...

MD: The official position of Chester Football Club is that we don't know of any definitive link between the authorship of the article and the football club in question.

Brig: It shows the character of the two men involved. Max goes to war for Boggy, risking future TV money, because he can't abide people treating his staff with anything less than total respect. The other person offers up a young girl as red meat.

J: I'm getting the sense that behind the scenes, there wasn't much criticism of Max for all this.

MD: Criticism of what? The only thing I didn't like was the manner in which he thought to come to Chester, late on transfer deadline day, out of the blue, so to speak. It's not a very nice thought but it's a thought he had when he was not being treated well there, and in the end it didn't come close to happening.

Max: See, this is boring. I'm so bored. This is a rubbish conversation. I knew I should have batted away all those questions. It's not about if I made mistakes or if I could have done things better. It's about moving forward. It's about what's next. If at any point you decide you don't like what I've done, fine. Sack me. Just spare me the mind-numbing, forensic analysis of every word in every sentence, holy shit.

MD: See what I have to work with? He's not afraid of being sacked. That's supposed to be my main weapon against him.

J: He knows you won't sack him.

Max: Lose five games and I'll be out the door. We all know that. But it doesn't worry me. I look at all these defensive managers clinging onto their jobs by their fingernails. Maybe I shouldn't be so harsh because they're living their dream and they'd do anything for one more day. But I'm not afraid of losing my job in the normal sense, no. Imagine I was free to focus on playing. I'd be earning silly money in no time. Sack me today, I could be on five grand a week before we hit December.

J: Or you'd go to the club you bought.

Max: What? Be serious. That's a hobby. That place is a retirement home for elderly squirrels.

J: When that news came out it was one of those 'excuse me what' moments.

MD: I know the feeling.

Max: If you want to come down one day, I'll give you a tour and you can film it and all that. You should forget it exists. I hadn't planned for any crossover with Chester but I couldn't shake the idea that it was a great place for one of our young players to get some match experience.

MD: It is perfect for that. If Max didn't own the club I wouldn't have thought twice about the proposal.

Max: The state of Chester. The youth teams are doing well. We've got two groups who are really strong.

J: People are starting to sit up and take notice of the under 12s.

Max: Mate, they are mint. The women's team are obviously having a good go at their league. You can get the main man to come and talk about it in detail. Jackie… is at the wheel, tell me how good… does it feel?

J: That's a Man United song.

Max: I know. I keep trying to make the lyrics fit Chester. One day. Hey, what's the latest with the Man United takeover?

MD: Nothing much is happening. The Qataris dropped out and the billionaire from Manchester is in pole position. According to reports, he'll buy a minority stake but he'll run the football side.

Max: It's so strange. I mean, I saw him there. He was involved with the Qataris.

MD: Who?

Max: Huh? What? Nothing. And the Saudi Pro League? That's still a thing, right?

J: I suppose. Probably buy loads of players in January again. I don't really keep track of it.

Max: Yeah. Billions swilling around all over the place. When we've got some of that money, I want to switch the boys to being, like, one group per year. So we'll have elevens, twelves, thirteens, and so on. We'll need more coaches, obviously. And physios. I'm overworking them as it is. Then at least two girls sides. Under eighteens as a platform for the first team. And... under sixteens? Not sure. Three would be great. Jackie can choose. Depends if they get promoted. What I'm saying is, things are great, but nowhere near right.

J: Sounds ambitious.

Max: No, it's basic. Okay, so the men's first team. We've got two good goalies, Robbo and Ben. Ben's good but I want a lot more from him. I think he doesn't realise how good he can be.

J: Can we talk about rotation? Everyone says it's bad. You should have a first-choice goalkeeper. Everyone says that.

Max: Nah. So that's the goalies. The defence is good. Steve Alton was a good signing. Very happy with him. Very happy with Carl's progress. Vimsy's got them playing as a unit. I need someone else in the rotation, though. I'm under budget on the wages. Did you know that? I want another coach and two signings. I think one has to be a defender.

J: I didn't expect transfer talk.

MD: Me neither.

J: People always love sending in questions about transfers.

Max: It might have to be a loan signing. I don't like doing loans but we need cover. Centre back who can cover at full back, ideally.

J: Why don't you like loans?

Max: We're developing someone else's players.

J: But if it gets us wins...

Max: Yeah. But we should have caught Vivek when he was twelve. If we had, he'd be getting first team minutes already. And because I've been training twice a day, I haven't been scouting as much. See what I mean? There's a cost to everything. I think I was right to work on myself to the extent I did because there are games when I can help the team. But I remember last January thinking we really need to build up the eighteens and it hasn't happened.

MD: For obvious reasons. No-one's mad at you.

Max: I'm just giving the fans an idea of the trade-offs.

J: You need to delegate more.

Max: Yeah. Remember you said that. Boggy, clip that bit out and send it to me so that when I start delegating more he can't get mad at me.

J: I'm suddenly very nervous.

Max: Yeah. We got Jackie in, by the way, call that delegation if you want, except he's better than me. And we got a scout. She's part time but we're building up to taking her on full time.

MD: She's one of the parents Max got into a fight with on his first day here.

Max: It wasn't a fight. It was a polite disagreement. It always stuck with me how switched on she was. She's really helping me, now. I'd love to send her around non league looking for players but for now I've got her scouting our next opponents. She's so good. Okay. Goalies good. Defence good but one addition, please.

J: Are you talking to MD, there?

Max: No because he always says there's no money. If I wanted to bring in another defender I'd go on a fan podcast, get them excited about the idea, and let them pressure him.

MD: [sigh]

J: Have you got anyone in mind?

Max: As a defender to come in? There are names but I'll look into that more in December. Closer to the transfer window, our phones will start ringing. We need to be nimble. Ready to move. Moving onto the midfield. That's our greatest strength, I think. Ryan was a great signing. Aff and Sam are absolutely killing it in training.

J: Why is that?

Max: What do you mean?

J: What's changed in training to make them so much better?

Max: Nothing in particular. We do a few things slightly different - we'll put Trick, Aff, and Raffi in one drill so they get used to playing with each other. Really trying to get our partnerships and triangles going. It's more work for Vimsy but those on-pitch partnerships are one thing I insist on. No, I'd say most of the improvement is about mindset and giving them breaks. If I tell Aff he's not playing on Saturday, he can train hard for four days and still end the week fresher than before. Do you know what I mean? I told them my priority was training and they're into it.

J: And Raffi's really kicked on.

Max: Did you know we had a bid for him? Some cheeky twats faxed us a transfer bid. My first one as a manager. I'd have framed it if it didn't make me sick.

J: How much was it?

Max: Like, five percent of what he's worth. Really annoying. I'm going to smash that team when I'm back to full fitness. Cheeky twats.

J: You looked back to full fitness against your former team.

Max: Nah. That was anger. That was a one-off. I'm stuck. I've hit a wall.

J: Don't be so hard on yourself. You nearly died.

Max: It's not that. I'm... just stuck. I don't need to play every game, and don't really like playing DM anyway. I could go most of the season without playing, I reckon. But I like the idea that I can come on and inject some pace and purpose and all that. Or if some team is really cheaty, I can go on and punish them. But then I need to be a lot better than I am. Like, genuinely, I wouldn't pick myself for right midfield. We've got Joe and D-Day who offer something different, crossing or dribbling. I can't do either.

J: It'll come back. Don't rush it.

Max: I might have to get weird with it. We'll see. Right, so, the midfield is pretty good.

J: Hang on. Can we talk about this transfer bid for Raffi?

MD: No.

Max: Yes. What's your question?

J: Well, how much would you accept?

Max: We're not selling this January. There's no amount of money that could make me part with any players.

MD: Raffi has a release clause that Max put into his deal.

J: See, that's weird, isn't it? Sorry, Max, but that's weird.

Max: I wasn't the manager then. You knew I was Raffi's agent when you offered me the job. It's a bit late to say it's weird.

J: No, I get that but if there's a deal that's good for you but bad for the club, or good for Raffi but bad for you, or whatever. It's a mess.

Max: Our interests are aligned. In summer a club will pay his release clause and his career will kick onto the next level. Him leaving this January would be bad for him, long term.

J: If he moves this January you'll get some more cash. You, personally.

Max: If there's a club that makes an offer where I think, hey, this could be good for him, I'll consider it. The next step is, is that transfer fee enough for Chester? If those two things are right, there could be a deal. But he's got to play. He's got to develop. I think six more months here is the best place for him. I'd like a new car. I'd like to take my girlfriend on holiday. But when it comes to Raffi, my priority is Raffi. If we give him everything he needs to grow as a player, the money will come to everyone, won't it?

Brig: The conflict would be if a club offered an amount of money that made MD want to bite their hand off, but that Max felt was far short of the level.

J: How much?

Brig: [sound of pen on paper] MD?

MD: God, yes. I'd take that in a heartbeat.

Brig: Max?

Max: No. No chance.

MD: Are you kidding?

Max: That's half price. You know that.

J: How much is it? What does it say?

Brig: That's classified. The amusing thing is, they are both right. It's an amount of money that would very much help the club. But if the club is patient, it will get the amount Max wants.

MD: You don't know that.

Brig: Max knows best.

J: Can you say what the release clause is, maybe? That'd be good to know.

MD: Your call, Max.

Max: What's your advice?

MD: I think you can say it but we'll never get that much.

Max: It's eight hundred thousand.

J: [low whistle] For a non-league player? That's... optimistic.

Max: Have you seen Raffi play?

J: But... How much was Jamie Vardy?

MD: A million. But that was ten years ago. A million then is like two million now. Eight hundred isn't... completely out of the question.

Max: Eight hundred grand is nothing for a player of Raffi's potential. In the summer, we'll get that, or as close as makes no odds.

MD: Or we'll get nothing if he leaves the following summer.

J: [pause] Maybe take the money?

MD: Don't say that. You can't tell him what to do. He's stubborn.

J: Oh. What about Henri? He's still on a month-to-month deal, right?

Max: The idea there was to explore our options and see what was best for him. I - as a friend - wanted him to go to League Two.

J: To Tranmere.

Max: To anyone. He's at a stage where he needs to be playing at that level. But he loves it here. He loves the football, the fans, the city, and he wants to stay. People in football undervalue happiness. He's happy. So I've been thinking, can we get to a level where it's fair that he stays here? And I think we can. So he wants to stay and he'll help us get there. It's perfect.

J: So why doesn't he sign a contract?

Max: He doesn't need one. If I say he can stay, he can stay, and if he says he'll stay, then he'll stay. As it happens, we decided it'll be better for him in terms of insurance and work permits and all that if he signs something. So we're looking at a two-year deal.

MD: What?

Max: Oh, sorry J. This is subject to approval from MD.

MD: I'm delighted, of course I am. He's a wonderful player and a great person. But why didn't you tell us?

Max: I forgot. What's the hurry? Everyone needs to relax. Jeez.

J: Bit of a podcast exclusive! I'm made up, me. He's brilliant, he is. Brilliant.

Max: And Tony's a good backup slash second striker. But we are short in the forward lines. Aren't we, MD?

MD: Oh, God. You've set this up. Got us all happy about Henri and now you're going to ask for money.

Max: You know this one. We talked about it.

MD: Oh, him. Yes, we've been exploring an option in the forward areas of the pitch. But as I told Max, it's too expensive. We've made a ridiculous offer and we've been turned down. It's not going to happen, Max.

J: Who is it?

Max: Sorry, bro, can't name names. Let's just say I have an idea for a signing that will shock a lot of people. We'd have to overpay, big time, but it'd be worth it.

J: Have we got a transfer budget?

Max: Not really, but the TV money will help. If we beat Walsall, yeah, I'll be able to bring in three players no problem. But if not, do you want me spending to make sure we win the title?

J: Yes.

Boggy: Yes!

MD: Max, don't do this.

Max: Okay, this player would be epic. But I promised we wouldn't have to do another Boost the Budget. Things are on the up financially but it'd be strange to blow a load of money on a certain player and then say, lads, lend us a fiver.

J: Win us the league and we won't mind. Seriously.

Max: Listen, what happened when I was in hospital was really special for me. You lot pulled together, didn't you? You did something. You raised loads of money when inflation was running wild and your bills were going mental. I know for a fact some fans went without heating so they could send money to the club. No, it's not that easy. The player I want would be an extravagance like you couldn't believe.

J: I don't know who it is but I want him. Do it, MD!

MD: When Max mentioned the player I thought he was joking. It's the least Max player of all time. But the more I think about it, the more I can't stop thinking about it. I like a lot of things about our manager, but I think my favourite is that he's not stuck to some abstract philosophy. I see you getting excited. Max, can you put a stop to this, please? You know the numbers don't work.

Max: I'm not ready to give up, yet. I had an idea. I told you that I had three problems, J. One is solved by that player. I mean, it's that simple. MD is right to worry about the money but if we're flexible... Okay. That's the first team. We need two more players in January. MD, do you agree with that?

MD: Based on the fixture list, yes.

Max: J, do you have any questions about the team?

J: Trick Williams.

Max: Good player. Having a bit of a purple patch. I think he could have a big December.

J: I wasn't at the games but some people said you played him left wing and Aff at left back.

Max: They're both flexible players. Sometimes we try things.

J: And you get on well with him.

Max: I got on with him about as well as I get on with you, J.

J: I know I said some things I shouldn't of, but -

Max: Near the beginning of the season, few matches in, I said to Trick, look. You're off the levels you were showing last season. Sort it out. I'm sure it's not nice to hear that, and it's worse if it's coming from a weirdo teen-man. But two weeks later, he was back on it. Do you know what I mean? There are players I get on with more naturally who aren't back to their best, and it's nearly Christmas. Do I sit next to Trick on the team bus swapping Panini stickers? No. Do we go on long walks looking for four-leaf clovers and putting daisy chains in each other's hair? Not very often. So what? He's a consistent player who does what I say.

J: You like consistency and obedience.

Max: Course I do.

J: What's your management style?

Max: Oh, shit. Er... I'm making it up as I go along. I'm just trying to do it how I'd want it done. Yeah, bit of fun, few laughs, but you've got to graft. And they've got to improve. All of them. I try to make it so that players are allowed to ask questions and give ideas. Henri likes that, and the other players have learned it's all right to say they don't understand or don't know what to do and whatever. Like, there's twenty of us in that room, so someone has an idea. Know what I mean?

J: Not really.

Max: And I look at other managers and they're ranting and raving trying to hype their players up. Okay, but we're running riot in the middle of the pitch and it's your job to notice that. Basically, what I'm saying is I do my main job and that's putting players in the right positions and telling them what I want them to do. If I then make some mistakes about how I talk to them or forget that they've got wives and families and all that, we can sort that out pretty calmly.

J: You forget they have wives?

Max: We train Monday morning. Near the end I have a genius idea and I'm like, top, come in tomorrow afternoon so we can practice. Someone - Glenn, normally - sighs and says, great, Max, are you going to book us a new hospital appointment? And I'm like oh, right, real life. Fine. You know, if we were losing matches that kind of thing would fester, but because they know I'm good at the main thing, they tolerate some other stuff. I mean, all they have to do is remind me and that's the end of it. It's not like I'm making promises to players about days off and changing my mind at the last minute like other managers do. And we do extra training, it's just a case of planning it. We can't be as spontaneous as if everyone was twenty-three and had complete control of their timetable. Brig, what do you think about my management style?

Brig: They will write books about it.

Max: Who? Comedians?

Brig: You get better every day, sir.

Max: Hmm. Next topic! The future. Let's say our goal is to win the league this year.

J: Is it?

Max: Yes. What could stop us doing that? At the moment, we're in good shape. We're second, three points behind Kiddies with a game in hand.

J: And a massive goal difference.

Max: That's not going to come into it. If we're level with any team we'll smash them on goal difference. And if we get this player I want...

J: Right, you've really hyped me up about that. But that was deliberate, wasn't it? So you can get the money.

Max: Yep. You'll agree it's a good signing but you'll baulk at the cost. There are, I think, three crazy things I want to do this season. Three things you'll lose your minds over. One will be that deal, if we can arrange it. The other club is absolutely not interested, as MD said, and what we've offered is already bonkers. There's a number where they have to go with it. Can you stomach it? I'm sort of softening you up, I'll admit. Ten years from now I'm pretty sure you'll think wow, that was fun. But when you hear the numbers, holy shit. That's your money. I know that.

J: And the other two things?

Max: [pause] Three crazy solutions to three serious problems. One can be solved with cash. That's the player. The other two need some imagination. I'm not sure which one will wind you up the most.

MD: I don't like the turn this podcast has taken.

J: You don't know about this?

MD: No.

Max: The thing is, do you trust me or not? Do you think I'm doing a good job? I only know one way to do it, and that's my way. Is it insane? No. It's totally logical. To me. But anyway, I can't do it the way you would do it, or the way Boggy would do it. Because that to me would be wrong. So one of the two things, you won't like it, but you need to get over that as quickly as possible.

J: But what is it?

Max: It's... a new member of staff. I can't say more because I haven't got it sewn up yet. I think it could be a Jackie Reaper level of signing, and it will be such a massive relief for me as a person. Just in terms of my schedule, my peace of mind. We absolutely need this person and I think it will happen.

J: But we won't like it?

Max: MD won't like it for about three seconds and then he'll see the upside. Probably. You'll need longer. Remember to breathe. It'll all be okay.

J: And the third thing?

Max: Yeah. That'll infuriate you. I can imagine you'll never be as angry about anything as you are about that. But I have to do it. For me and for the club.

J: When's this bomb going to drop?

Max: It's not a bomb. It might look like a bomb, but it's really a rainbow. The thing is, one of the reasons I wanted to do this podcast was because it all ties in. If you think I'm a parasite and a villain, you're going to spin everything I ever do into the worst possible light. If you can step back and think, 'this looks selfish but I can see how this benefits Chester long-term' then we'll be all right.

MD: I'm worried.

Max: Check this out. Kidderminster play three of the top six in December. If they win them all, fair play. But they're going to drop a few points somewhere, and then we'll be number one for Christmas.

J: Christmas number one.

Max: Possibly Boxing Day number one, but you know what I mean. Everything I've done so far has been all right, hasn't it? I've taken some big swings. Pascal, Youngster, Magnus. Different formations, rotating the goalies, fake Jackies, real Jackies. Cup runs, new sponsors. I think I've earned a bit of leeway to get a bit weird. Don't you?

J: [long pause] Max Best, thanks for coming on Deva Victrix. I enjoyed it; let's do it again some time.