A hushed silence suddenly fell upon the West Ham fans behind the goal. The goal that which Ricardo Vaz Te had just blazed over from no more than two yards away. Promotion was in the hands of the mohican sporting Portuguese man and it now seemed too much of an uphill task. The silence was broken when Kevin Nolan screamed out across the area in a harsh scouse accent: “YOU F**KING C*CK RICK!” Vaz Te trudged his way back to the half way line for the resulting goal kick and before everyone realised, penalties were upon them.
Ricardo made amends for his earlier miss from the spot in the shoot out, but Julien Faubert had blazed over meaning Roman Bednar had been gifted the opportunity of smashing a penalty in to give Blackpool promotion at the first time of asking. Bang. Straight down the middle. West Ham remain in the Championship for another season. Ian Holloway goes into a Jamiroquai-esque dance in the centre circle as Sam Allardyce remained solemn on the touchline. The team collected their runners up medals and made their way back to the dressing room. Guy Demel’s impression of Adam Sandler in ‘Waterboy’ fell upon deaf ears. This was no time for the big man’s antics.
As the team returned to the coach on which they arrived, Allardyce received a text message. He pulled out his phone knocking one of his numerous cuttings of Karren Brady to the floor. He read the message, it’s from the woman herself: “My office, now xoxo.” He left the team and got a bus to Upton Park. There, he found Karren waiting with David Gold and David Sullivan. They walk into the club shop and wasted no time in relieving him of his position as manager.
“I thought Avram was bad but this takes the p*ss.” David Sullivan was ruthless in his tone.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out this time, but watch, I can convince Ivan Campo to come out of retirement and it will all be roses next year!”
Sullivan knew of his and Karren’s affair and had been waiting to drop the guillotine on him. As Allardyce left and got into his car, Karren ran up to the window and shared an experience reminiscent of the last scene in ‘Lost in Translation’. Just silence.
West Ham fans cried out for an ambitious appointment. Di Canio had a League Two title under his belt and was the clear favourite. But Gold and Sullivan had had their minds corrupted by the Olympic Stadium. They panicked. ‘How are we going to get 50,000 cockney’s watching us play Huddersfield f**king Town every week?’ they pondered. There was only one man they could turn to that could ensure West Ham would win their bid to get the stadium. It was leftfield, but it might be their last hope.
Boris Johnson was unveiled amidst a sea of rage.
“Look, I’m very much aware football is not my forte, but the agreement is spectacular in nature.”
Boris blew the blonde hair out that had fallen by his mouth.
“I’m an east end chap at heart, guys, and I will get West Ham Champions League football next year.”
Even Boris knew that wasn’t possible, he just couldn’t help mocking the football fans he saw as gullible peasants. Gold and Sullivan had faith in him, and the season began with a 6-0 home drubbing at the hands of Peterborough. The optimism soon dissipated. West Ham were only able to field nine players, two of which were city bankers who spent the entire time asking to be bailed out, but instead were left hapless as West Ham started the season in embarrassing fashion. Kevin Nolan had been appointed assistant manager and insisted he play up front with the rest of the team not to come within 20 yards of him. Ricardo Vaz Te had become vilified for his squandered opportunity at Wembley. He soon flew back to Portugal where he took up a job as a dog walker to see out his days.