Start from the beginning here!

25th August 2018. My first game in Serie B. Some would say it’s my true debut and they would be right, everybody knows the Coppa Italia doesn’t count – especially not the qualifying rounds. They’re basically friendlies.

We have a team meeting in the morning as I remind the players of their responsibility and the expectations on both myself and the squad in the coming season.

“Anything short of promotion will be considered a failure.” I tell them. “Now, I know that I have no interest in being involved in any such failure. Any player who does, raise your hand now and I’ll let you train with the U20s for the rest of the season because you’ve got no place in this team. Do you want to spend your days playing against Juventus, Roma and Milan or stuck travelling to Perugia, Cittadella and Foggia?

“Some of you can go right to the top. I legitimately believe that. But the only way to know for sure is for you all to get to the top division to truly test yourself. Anybody can look good at this level. Let’s see what you’re all made of. Any questions?”

Trajkovski raises his hand reluctantly. He’s probably aware that I still hold a mild, petty grudge against him for missing the crucial penalty that got us knocked out of the Italian Cup. I give him the nod to speak.

“Boss, you have a bit of er…” Trajkovski motions towards his chin area, “around your mouth.”

I wipe my chin and see a worrying patch of red. I start to look around at my coaching staff, panicked. Am I bleeding? What’s going on? Any day but today! Suddenly, the smell reaches my nostrils. I lick the back of my hand clean.

“Oh. Just ketchup. Must be left over from my bacon sandwich this morning. Thank you, Aleksandar.”

The meeting ends and I begin to plan the starting line-up. Having had a successful pre-season and having the majority of the squad fully match-fit, we’ve got our pick of the bunch. Whilst the kids weren’t necessarily the worst performers against Viterbese, I won’t be picking any of them for the first game of the season, least of all against a Pescara team who I have a sneaking suspicion may do quite well this season.

This is the selection we go with. It’s technically the strongest line-up we have on paper, though Nicolas Haas takes the third midfield spot in place of Mato Jajalo, who is just slightly off match fitness after picking up a knock in training earlier in the week. Pescara will pose a challenge, however we should be coming out on top.

The attendance is much higher in the ground today – we were estimated to bring in around 10,000 and it looks quite accurate, certainly a good deal more than the 2,000 we had in our qualifying match. I’m given a warm reception by the fans and I wave in appreciation. Let’s hope we can repay them with the three points.

In the first 15 minutes, it’s Pescara who come closest to opening the scoring as some nice play in their midfield leads to young loanee Mirko Antonucci playing a brilliant pass into the path of fellow loanee Mancuso’s run. Brignoli is forced into a save and it’s the first warning sign for the team. We need to be switched on.

We have the lion’s share of the chances but we create little of any real quality, whereas Pescara test our keeper a couple more times. However, with just under half an hour played, the first goal of the game comes through Ilija Nestorovski. Alessandro Salvi whips in a cross from the right-hand side and Nestorovski gets his head firmly on it from point-blank range, giving the keeper no chance. 1-0.

Nothing much happens for the rest of the half until, just before the half-time whistle, Nestorovski has a header cleared off the line from a free kick on the edge of the Pescara penalty area. We go in at half-time 1-0 up and I remind the players of their need to win this game. It’s the first game of the season and 3 points are potentially more important now than any other. The players take notice and appear to be focused, raring to go for the 45 minutes ahead.

On the 50th minute, Rajkovic gives away a penalty and I turn to my coaching staff, holding my arms out wide as if to ask “what the fuck was that?” A cross comes in from Pescara’s left wing and, in a packed penalty area, Rajkovic grabs the shirt of Memushaj and drags him down to the ground. Despite his protests of innocence, Rajkovic receives a yellow card, one which he’s fully deserving of. He’s an idiot and in my rage I immediately call Angileri from the bench, angrily telling him to begin warming up. Memushaj steps up to take the penalty and hits it right down the middle. Brignoli stands tall and saves the shot, however all he manages to do is palm it right into the path of the Pescara man, who taps home into an empty half of the net. 1-1.

I immediately come out to the touchline and start screaming at the team, calling them every single rude Italian word I’d searched up in the dictionary that morning. I decide against the emotional decision to instantly sub off Rajkovic, however I drag Chochev off after another 15 minutes as his impact on the game has been little to none. Antonio Fiordilino is brought on in his place and it’s not long before his contribution immediately surpasses that of Chochev.

We win a free-kick on the edge of the Pescara penalty area on our left flank in the 83rd minute. Fiordilino whips in a cross which Rajkovic meets. The header looks like it’s going wide until veteran Argentine defender, Hugo Campagnaro, is victim of his own momentum as he accidentally sends the ball into the back of the net past his own keeper. The goal goes down as a Campagnaro OG but Rajkovic’s header is an important contribution that makes up for his earlier error. 2-1.

We hold out for the rest of the game for the win and, as the final whistle blows, I fall to my knees, punching the air in front of me and screaming loudly. A vital victory after our Italian Cup humiliation, as one of the stronger teams in the division has been overcome in our first game of the season.

The way we played is particularly pleasing – having got the better of Pescara statistically as well as on the scoresheet. The possession isn’t highly in our favour, but it’s in our favour nonetheless and shows we’re going in the right direction.

The post-match interview is fairly harsh, as one local reporter goes on the offensive immediately.

“You were touted as big favourites going into this game, yet you relied on an own goal to secure victory. What would you like to say to fans who expected more today?”

“More than three points? What more could they want?” I ask, scathingly.

“A good performance? High quality of football? They were disappointed not to see more youth brought in for a game which you were expected to win.” He presses.

“Sorry, what’s your name?”

“Mario Pacini.”

“Well, Mario, seeing as you apparently know the desires of the fans so very well, I’ll address you directly. I’m here to win games. I’m here to make sure that every week we come back with three points. I’m here to make sure that this club is where it should be – competing with the likes of Milan, Juventus and Napoli in Serie A. Am I here to placate fans, to play kids just because they want to see it, to play Barcelona’s football? No. I’m here to win. If we come away with three points, quite frankly I don’t care how pretty it was. Today we did that. Does that answer your question, Mario?”

Mario nods and sits back down. The back pages of the Sicilian press the following morning is covered with the headline, “I’M NOT HERE TO PLEASE YOU” with a picture of me looking particularly angry in the midst of my rant. A bit of a roadblock, admittedly, in my path to pleasing the fans. Still, results should take care of that sooner rather than later.

Over the week we train well. There’s no issues and everybody seems to be getting to grips with the formation we’re using. I throw in a bit of team bonding one evening just to keep the spirits high within the squad – they go paintballing and apparently a huge dummy with my face on it is used as target practice. It’s probably fine. They probably do this for all their managers. It’s probably banter.

As the next game approaches, this time playing against Spezia, I decide to stick with a mostly similar team in order to keep the rhythm similar. There are still a couple of changes, as Fiordilino comes in for Haas and Rispoli takes the place of Salvi, however we’re otherwise unchanged. After the training levels seen during the week, I have a good feeling about this one.

Maybe not.

We draw 0-0 in a pretty uneventful game. Despite our obvious dominance, in which we have fourteen shots to their four, we come nowhere close to scoring. Thankfully neither do they, however my friend, Mario Pacini, is front of the queue in the press conference afterwards to ask questions.

“So, this draw leaves you with one defeat against lower-league opposition, one unconvincing win and a bore draw in three professional games. For a man who last week claimed that they were only focused on getting three points, no matter how that may be, you’re not doing a great job of winning.”

I hold my head in my hands. “Jesus Christ, are you going to be here asking me this same question after every game?”

“With all due respect, Mr Cosby, this is my job.”

“Can you give me any proof that what you’re saying is actually reflecting the fans’ opinion of me? I haven’t heard any of it.” I demand.

“Of course,” Mario lifts his phone and starts scrolling through, “I’ve saved some of the best reactions to today’s game.”

“Mierda.” I mutter under my breath. He’s ready for this.

“@MercurialNestorovski, two minutes after the final whistle, ‘I’m already starting to lose faith in this season. Our manager is shit.’ @PleaseComeHomeDybala, three minutes after the final whistle, ‘Why can’t we score goals? Oh wait, I know, it’s because our manager is shit.’ @MezzalaChochev, one minute after the final whistle, ‘Can somebody please explain to me why our shit manager is refusing to play any of the kids when the likes of Chochev are clearly not good enough?’ @AlessandroSalviation, five…”

I raise my hand to stop him. “Alright, we get the message.”

“Are you noticing a trend, Bill?”

“Yes, you’ve clearly just searched for any combination of “manager” and “shit” and, what a shock, you’ve found some people calling their manager shit.”

“There are plenty more, if you’d like me to…” Pacini looks back down at his phone.

“No, that won’t be necessary. Look, we’re putting a plan into place. New tactics aren’t easily done. People underestimate the size of the job we’ve got on our hands to get Palermo back to where they used to be. Mark my words, we’ll get there this season. We won’t lose a game in 2018.”

“Well, technically you already…” Pacini begins.

“You know exactly what I mean. Now I won’t have another question from you again.”

The rest of the press conference is much more reasonable but the fan feedback I’m given lingers long after it’s over. The fanbase is unforgiving and impatient and the pressure to succeed immediately at this club is high. I’m confident I can handle it, just like Bill Cosby could handle all those malicious rumours about his past. Where will it take us? We’ll see…