Matchday found me feeling like a man condemned.

I got a taxi to the ground, the neck brace couldn't come off for 5 days, and found the team in relaxed mood. There had still been no apology for the marine-mooning episode on Thursday and they didn't look like a bunch of guys with any worries at all.

We announced the line up and sent them on thier way to start light exercises.

Lopez (GK)
Javi Costa (DR) Fuentes (DC) Cygan (DC) Capdevila (DL)
Senna (DM) Pjanic (MC)
Pires (AMR) Nihat (AMC) Fernandez (AML)
Tomasson (ST)

Rossi looked a little hurt so I took him to one side and explained that I still had faith in him as our main striker.

Bruno just sulked.

As kick off approached I asked one of the stewards to get the club mascot to try and work the crowd up a little. The Betis fans were making more noise and I knew this wasn't going to help our cause.

The painkillers had me feeling pretty foggy again and so Ruben did most of the talking just before kick off. As I walked out onto the pitch I took a long look around.

"soak it up mate, this may well be the last time" I said to myself as I made my way to the bench.

Now the papers will tell you all you need to know about this game but what they wont be able to tell you about was the half time interval.

I was a broken man. Betis had destroyed us for 45 minutes, the crowd were whistling and I twice had to wipe spit from the back of my neck. I was tempted to just walk out there and then to save Roig the pleasure of sacking me by phone after the game.

But something happened in that dressing room at half time. I guess I kinda lost it.

"guys...I know some of you don't even understand a word I'm saying...I'm sorry...but please, you don't know what I'm going through here...I can't eat or sleep, I have tried everything to get the best out of you but what have I had in return? Huh? Fights, police, bare arses" (I heard a snigger at this but wasn't sure who it was so moved on.

All the while the painkillers were making me feel more and more dizzy.

"this will be my last game here...Betis are killing you out there...what have I got to do for you to be proud of this jersey again...I am begging you (my voice went wobbly at that point and I actually thought I was going to cry)...please guys...just once...play like you mean it"

At this point I undid my neckbrace and threw it over my shoulder. I wasn't aiming at Bruno but it got him nonetheless.

The players were very quiet and looked a little guilty. Senna got them all to thier feet and marched them out onto the pitch 5 minutes early. I followed them and grabbed the mascot and demanded he do a lap round the pitch to get this crowd back on our side.

The papers will tell you the rest...but that night I still couldn't sleep as everytime I closed my eyes now I saw the sea of celebrations in the stands.

Shaken and violated - the club mascot before his 'mounting'

Ath. Madrid 1 Recreativo 0
Athletic 1 Murcia 0
Getafe 1 Deportivo 0
Osasuna 2 Zaragoza 1
Racing 0 Mallorca 1
Barcelona 1 Levante 0

I had to find a way of keeping this going. The players had definatly responded to something and now I needed to convince them that they should play like this week in and week out.

Thursday would see us heading out to Austria to face Ried who had held Galatasary in Turkey. I had a vague idea in my mind about who to play. Some of the fringe players were getting restless with no sign of a first team start and so at least a few of them were going to get thier chance.

Two of our scouts were in South America watching Maicon in Brazil and Damien Escudero in Argentina. Both were apparently well worth adding to the squad if the price was right.

Meanwhile life at the house was improving slightly. Having seen how much Sunday's win had meant, Lucy began to realise that I cared more about the job here than she realised and just getting up and walking away from it all might not be a quick process. She had though booked another week home, leaving on Saturday.

All I had to do today was deal with the insurance firm of the car I collided with, they were of course suing me. I also heard via Pablo of all people that the team mascot was on a morning TV chat show saying how my actions had damaged it in ways people could never imagine. Great, that was another solicitors letter I had to look forward to no doubt.

Tuesday and back to work.

Some friends from England were over to see us and I was showing them around the ground. With Roig away and the general mood of the team lifted I felt confident enough to take them out towards the training pitch and round the stadium. I felt like a tour guide trying not to get caught not the manager of a La Liga club. I was still a long way short of accepting that I was in the middle of al this.

Roig was back the following day and was full of smiles. Not particuarly for the result, he had apparently expected nothing less, but rather he had negotiated the appointment of the club's new General Manager to replace the disgraced Almeria. We would meet the guy when we returned from Austria.

In the afternoon we left for the airport with no obvious signs that there was going to be trouble. Even Lopez looked sober.

I should have noticed on the flight over. It's the little things I guess, the minor squabbles over window seats, elbow room, people taking thier socks off.

By the time we arrived in Austria a couple of the little things had become big things, Mora and Lopez were taking verbal swipes at each other and Tomasson was looking like he was up to no good. Ruben and I were doing our best to get them bundled on the bus the other side of customs without incident but we all found ourselves waiting for Tomasson.

After 20 minutes we went back in to see what the hell was going on but couldn't see him, all we saw was a minor scuffle going on in the far corner between customs police. It wasn't until they all fell to the floor did Tomasson's head appear from the middle of them all.

It wasn't until we had left without him that we heard that he'd made some joke about having a bomb down his trousers. He was going to be questioned for at least 24 hours.

Finally at the hotel the team were gathered together and told who would be starting the game the following evening. Tomasson had been due to start upfront but he'd blown that. There were a few changes but enough quality to do the job, there would be no excuses.

Lopez (GK)
Josemi (DR) Fuentes (DC) Godin (DC) Insua (DL)
Duran (MC) Josico (DM)
Cani (AMR) Assulin (AMC) Cazorla (AML)
Franco (ST)

We'd planned on using our wingers more for this game, we had to create more chances as we'd heard they were planning on playing a defensive game.

The players all went on thier way. We'd done the usual with the bar staff, 'do not serve' and told them to stay within the hotel. Compared to Cyprus this had been a breeze so far, 11pm and only one arrest.

The painkillers were making me feel knackered so I headed off to sleep. An hour later I'm sat in reception watching a paramedic check over 3 of our players.

The vommiting had been going on for ages. Josemi was the first, Pjanic next, then one by one the players were complaining of stomach cramps.

I felt fine but then I'd slept through the on flight meal, everyone who didn't was currently losing weight through various means around the hotel.

Bruno was sat in the back of an ambulance looking a right state, Lopez had slept through the whole thing but the door to his mini bar was swinging wide open so his vomit may be yet to come.

The press, ever alert to the chance of a story were taking snaps of players vomiting, making sure the hotel bar was in the background of every shot.

It was 2am when everthing began to calm down. We'd sent a fax to UEFA in Zurich to ask if we could fly extra players out as surely this counted as exceptional circumstances. We'd have to wait until morning for a reply.

As the players did thier best to sleep through the stomach cramps, I lay awake thinking that my enevitable sacking was not going to be due to poor performances but rather an undercooked batch of cod.

Typical.

Match day morning and the hotel stank. The staff bless 'em had done thier best to get rid of the smell of vomit but it was going to take a while.

I strolled down to reception to see if UEFA had replied to our fax but nothing. Cani and Cazorla were already in the hotel pool so obviously they were ok, same could be said for Josico and Franco who were sat watching the TV in the lounge area.

"everything ok?" I asked them

They gave the thumbs up just as Fuentes and Insua came strolling in, throwing themselves down on the sofa.

"did I dream all that last night?" I asked Ruben as more and more of the squad began to appear, all looking fairly healthy.

"No, but it seems to have given some of these lads a bit of a clear out...the only one who is really rough is Lopez"

It wasn't all plain sailing, Bruno had spent the night in hospital but that may have had more to do with him having a thing for nurses.

By the afternoon the lads are at the Fill-Metallbau Stadion with the coaching crew. The crisp Austrian air seemed to be doing wonders for some of them, Cani and Duran had never looked healthier and I was starting to think that a touch of dodgy stomach could be the key to getting this lot looking focussed.

The kick off time grew ever nearer. With 20 minutes to go the UEFA representative came into our dressing room with our fax in his hand.

"errr, I am sorry...for errr, delay. The answer is err...sorry, no"

We all just looked at him until he left looking a little embarrassed.

I'd told the subs that they can expect to get on the pitch quickly if things were not going to plan. I sat myself down on the bench and kept my fingers crossed.

5 Star Yellow Submarines

Franco carved open the Rien defence all evening

We got back to the hotel in jubilent mood. Tomasson, released without charge was waiting there at the bar looking sorry for himself as Franco shouted "thanks" in his direction.

We just had to get this lot out the country in the morning without incident and surely Roig will have nothing to complain about.

My Guides
Miralem Pjanic
Pepe
Jonas Gutierrez