Ketsbaia was laying it on thick in the press. Ok, so it was mind games but I must admit, it was starting to rub off. They hadn't conceded in thier cup run so far and they were playing on our low confidence by making us feel like we were up against it.

Thursday we made sure the team trained hard. Most of the better players knew they were going to be rested tonight but we weren't going to name the squad until the end of this session.

Roig had kept a low profile since the press conference, I'm not sure he had thought through what he was going to do if we lost.

We gathered them all together and revealed the line up - most of the first team were going to be rested but kept on the bench in case things were going wrong. But it was a good chance to keep some of the patient squad players a piece of the action. It was torrential rain again out there and you could see some of the star players didn't fancy it.

"ok guys, Mora - goalkeeper, defence - Javi Costa right back, Insua left back, Godin and Fuentes in the centre...Bruno and Senna in the middle, Cani left, Assulin right, Pjanic, you play behind Franco...tonight we play 4-2-3-1"

By the evening those selected were kitted up and fired up. I just hope that resting some of the first team didn't backfire. The rain was lashing at the windows, another rainy match day.

We walked out onto the pitch, a few empty seats around the place, could be the weather. Just hope we don't let them down.

Man of the Match - 16 yr old Gai Assulin

I passed Roig who was talking business as usual, he turned to me and said "Four? should have been Seven" before turning away again.

"don't worry about it" said Ruben..."he's pleased, I can tell"

As I looked back over my shoulder I could see Roig watching us with a big smile.

All I had to do now was get them in the right frame of mind for Racing Santander away at the weekend. All this will have been for nothing if we don't get something out of that one.

"Go Karts?"

Roig had been given the financial report for the month and I'd forgotten that the whole go-kart experiment had happened when he was out of town on business.

"what do you think this is? a playground? you put my millions of euros worth of players on a race track? madres de dios...."

"I thought it would be a good...."

"did you now? you idiot...they are paid to win football matches not drive go-karts!"

He was doing that window thing again, making me sit there not knowing if it was my turn to speak next or not. Eventually he turned towards me and held the report up close to my face.

"and this? €1000 for a new kart? what the hell happened?"

"err...there was a...err small fire and..."

"spare me the details...go on...out"

I made it as far as the door when he called me back.

"I hear you are having a small party tonight huh?"

I cringed, then turned towards him.

"yes, my wife's idea, a sort of house warming thing, you know, just a few of the players, no drink...all very quiet"

"I may just come along....you know, keep and eye on things"

.........................

"you did what?"

My wife wasn't pleased, but then it was hardly my fault he'd invited himself.

"you know he's just bluffing...he's old, he is probably tucked up in bed by 8"

I'd been against the idea from the start anyway. After the hotel fight and the go kart carnage I'd decided that the only place this lot should get together is on a football pitch.

Later that evening the guests gradualy arrived. We'd invited Pablo and he couldn't believe his luck being surrounded by players from his beloved Villareal. We had stayed good to our word and not provided drink.

It was around 8 when the first smell of drink filled the air. Either smuggled in or one of the players or coaches had come from a bar first. As guests spread out around the house we began to lose track of what everyone was up to. On the balcony things were hotting up.

It seems that Miralem Pjanic had been chatting up Pascal Cygan's girlfriend. He'd been calm enough to sort the whole thing out but when Pjanic saw his own girlfriend chatting to Francisco Duran, tempers flared.

Protesting his innocence, Duran tried to avoid getting involved but when a beer can was thrown (no-one ever found out where it came from) and knocked a vase over it was my wife who went for him.

Suddenly there was shouting everywhere. Lucy composed herself but Pjanic was after a fight and stank of beer. He got what he wanted in the shape of Lopez, hammered, and armed with a cactus and our TV remote control. They both went for each other and cheers went up. It wasn't until I saw my TV remote go over the balcony and into the pond that I got involved, wrestling Lopez off of Pjanic, restaining him in a headlock.

Suddenly everyone started to go quiet. I though perhaps it was thier shock in seeing thier boss get involved but then I spotted a familiar pair of expensive shoes. I looked up to see Mr Roig standing there with his wife.

Players backed away and pretended not to have been watching but I still had Lopez's head under my arm.

"errr...sir...can I get you a drink?"

One of the players giggled at this which only made it worse.

"perhaps a little talk huh?"

It was over an hour before I managed to explain the facts, Ruben had stepped in and told it like it was.

As one by one the players made thier way home just a grinning Pablo remained.

"if they show that kind of spirit against Racing on Sunday then you will be ok my lad" he said as he got up to leave.

As he shuffled off into the night he turned and said "great fun".

I closed the door behind him and turned to my wife.

"am I allowed to say 'told you so' now?"

Saturday had been a peaceful affair. Only light training in the morning for the players and all accounted for. Pjanic looked sheepish but defiant and Lopez apologised for just about everything. I think we all knew we had a problem on our hands with that one.

Roig kept out of the way and news that he was away on business until Tuesday was met with smiles all round. Although I'm sure a defeat tomorrow and he will be home early!

Saturday night was spent at the movies - couldn't understand a damn word.
.................................................. .................................

Sunday morning and the team gathered at the ground to get the bus to the airport once again. The rain came down, part of my selling Spain to Lucy had been the promise of sunshine...but instead this rain just never stopped.

We touched down in the north of Spain around lunchtime and set up at a hotel 3 miles south of the Estadio El Sardinero.

The players assembled and the line up was revealed.....

"Ok, Lopez, goalkeeper" for the first time he looked surprised at this.

"Josemi, Godin, Cygan, Capdevila - that's the back 4"

No comments so far.

"Senna in the middle, next to Senna is Francisco Duran" that prompted a bit of a reaction from Cani and Cazorla.

"Pires right wing, Mati, left...Nihat you play just behind Rossi"

Franco looked a bit upset and Pjanic stared at the floor.

As the minutes ticked by the team relaxed and got themselves in the right frame of mind. 3 miles away in the stadium the noise grew along with the expectation.

Ath. madrid 1 Valencia 1
Athletic 2 Almeria 0
Espanyol 2 Deportivo 1
Levante 0 Betis 0
Murcia 3 Getafe 1
Recreativo 1 Zaragoza 1
Valladolid 1 Osasuna 0
Mallorca 0 Real Madrid 0

No win in 3 league games but somehow it didn't feel as bad as it sounds. 2-2 is one of those scores, throw away a 2 goal lead and it's a disater, come back from 2 down and it feels like a victory, come back twice to snatch a draw and it feels like a good effort.

And that was the general mood in the dressing room afterwards. We knew that plenty of people would say we should have beaten 10 men but it's not easy when the other side put everyone behind the ball.

But on the coach back to the airport I couldn't hep thinking that Roig would not be sharing my emotions. He'd demanded a win and had got a draw but I was getting tired of his constant threats, if he wanted to sack me he should just get on with it.

I was about to turn my phone off before boarding the plane when a text message came though. It was from one of the coaches at AFC Bournemouth asking if thier were any jobs going...cheek of it. I'd been keeping an eye on thier progress back in England, 10 points deducted for going bust...I should have been glad but the club still had a place in my heart.

The flight back was fairly straightforward (2 near misses, 1 air rage) and home late into the night.

"do you think he'll sack you tomorrow?" asked Lucy as I poured a late night drink back at the house.

"you know, I'm not sure I care, the guy's just a bully"

"we could go home then" she replied after a long pause.

I'd started to think of Spain as home now but that comment told me that my wife didn't feel the same way at all.

"oh" she added "the police rang, they have found some more of our stuff on a market stall in Pamplona"

"Pamplona? what did they do, chuck all our stuff out of a plane?"

As sleep got the better of us both we went to bed but as the minutes turned into hours I lay awake.

I did care if he sacked me...this did feel like home....I really didn't want this to end just yet.

I was pretty psyched up as I drove to work on the Monday. The weather at last was improving (I couldn't get the car roof to open but I now know where the hazard switch is).

I strode into reception ready for whatever Roig had to throw at me. As I passed the receptonist I said "s'pose I may as well go straight in to see him again?"

"Roig? no, he is in Madrid remember? on business"

Typical. The only time I was fired up enough to defend myself he was no-where to be seen. I flicked throgh the papers to read what they thought about the Racing match. It was all ok...no-one (from what I could understand) was asking for me to be sacked. I'd made up my mind to do as little as possible seeing as Roig was away. The team only had light training this afternoon. They had been due the day off but we were playing Murcia in La Liga on Wednesday night so they were reluctantly dragged in.

I found most of them in the club cafe, the TV on the wall had been taken over by someone's X-box and the players were beating each other up on screen.

That was the problem with this job. Because I had been employed as basically a puppet manager, I didn't really have that much to do. At Bournemouth you get involved in everything, the wages, the training, the players complaining....here it seemed like there was someone already doing it all for you.

"you want some players to start moaning?" asked Ruben after I'd explained to him how I was feeling.

"I'll send a few your way, it will give me a rest" he said laughing. I hadn't appreciated how much of the nasty stuff Ruben had taken on whilst I settled in.

"also, you want to train with the players? let's go"

Now I used to be a player of course, central defence, before a knee injury sent me into coaching. I'd tried my best to stay in shape but you know how it is. I got myself kitted up and walked out towards the pitch where the players were already doing thier stretches.

They all looked at me in turn, some grinning, some looking at the beer gut that the training top was not hiding very well.

I began to do some of the warm up exercises...it had been a while and I began to slow down a little. As managers go I wasn't that old but these guys were a million miles ahead of me in fitness.

One lap round the pitch and I was a wreck. Drool swung disgustingly from my mouth as I wheezed my way round. The players completed a lap and decided to do another (I'm sure this was so that they could try and lap me). I managed to avoid that humiliation but only just.

Next it was a quick 2-touch kick about. 2 matches of 6 a-side. I was still glugging water and holding my stomach when it started. Now I swear the guys were deliberatly giving me the ball. At one point I was stood on the edge of my own area wondering if I was going to vomit when Senna played a massive back pass when through on goal, straight to me, forcing me to run again.

As for 2 touch - I was hardly that kind of player when I was younger , now my control was even worse. Twice I got clattered by Fuentes and Franco caught me with an accidential elbow.

I could hear them all plotting and chuckling as I became more and more exhausted. I was ready to call it a day when a couple of the players started to show-boa