Player Manager - A Sports Progression Fantasy

6.

@banterbets: BREAKING! UEFA open disciplinary proceedings against English star! Max Best, 26, faces a charge of bringing the game into disrepute for wearing God of War-themed FACE PAINT in a match against Greek side Aris. "I didn't bring the game into disrepute," said the Chester wild child. "It's got great graphics and top voice acting. I love that character who's just a head that you carry around. Not a fan of the boss battles but overall it's the best game ever, better than Pac-man, flawless 4 out of 5." Top bantz from the Manc geezer but there are fears he'll miss out on the next round of qualifying - if his team get there.

***

Saturday, 8 August

League One Match 1 of 46: Northampton Town versus Sandra Lane's Blue-And-White Army

In one small corner of Gibraltar not known for its tourist attractions, a surprising number of people were spending a beautiful sunny afternoon indoors. FOMO (fear of missing out) had drawn all sorts to Poncho Villa: the Maxnificent Seven, a few girlfriends (Emma, Luisa, Sarah Greene), Glenn Ryder, half a dozen College players, and two of Henri's temporary neighbours.

Like any great Hollywood movie - Zach Snyder's 300, perhaps - our adventure was being enriched by an ever-changing cast of British minor characters. There was a seemingly endless supply of people who were keen to experience the ride before it was over. Any spare capacity on flights to The Rock got snapped up by anyone even tangentially related to Chester and they were more than welcome to hang out with us.

The current VIPs were Pascal's girlfriend Tiggy, her father-coach Clive O'Keefe, and Zadie, Sharky's absolutely gorgeous girlfriend. Weirdly, that bunch wanted to do tourist things instead of watching a League One match on a soundless stream. No doubt they would be back in time for the movie that followed.

I'd hooked up the massive new OLED to my laptop and was all set up to stream my private and exclusive 'director of football' feed while Henri broadcast Seals Live through a smart speaker. There was still a while to go so we were milling around, mingling, spilling into the kitchen to get some of Henri's typically delicious snacks, taking them out onto the little balcony. That was all top but suddenly I was gasping for a tea.

"Henri," I complained, as I opened the fridge to sniff the milk. It seemed fine. "One of those randos you invited just asked who I was."

"That's what happens at a party, Max."

I got a tea bag, put it in a mug, and added hot water. "This isn't a party. This is a private function and those who come must pay homage, not ask who I am. I'm literally the God of War. Don't they read the news? UEFA are in total meltdown because of me. Don't ask who I am, do you know what I mean? Fuck sake."

Henri lifted a peanut above him and dropped it into his mouth - one of his weirder habits. "Henri Lyons is renting Poncho Villa and Henri Lyons is friendly with his neighbours. I informed them that I would be hosting a happening and as part of that conversation I extended my hospitality. It is called getting on with people. It is called being agreeable." He let another peanut drop. "You might try it sometime."

"Do you know what they asked? They asked how do you know Henri? They think you're the star. Isn't that mental?"

Baggers and Sarah came in together, holding hands. They were a totes adorbs couple. "Max," said Henri. "Have you tried William's crêpes?"

"Pardon me? Have I smelled his what?"

Henri slid a small plate closer to me. "I have been teaching Wibbers to make crêpes. Try."

"Wibbers?" I said, eyes darting around the others very much like in a western. Baggers was trying to communicate something wordlessly. Something to do with Sarah. Could it be that she didn't like his new name? The thought was mind-blowing and staggering, but I didn't want to make a scene when everyone was having fun. "I'll try a bit, yeah." I sliced a little bit off and pulled it onto my plate. "Um," I said, looking around. "Where's the mint sauce?"

"Putain!" said Henri, who stormed out of the kitchen but came right back in, shaking his head. "How do you do that? I always think I am immune to your nonsenses but you always find new ways to hurt me. Mon actual dieu."

"Mint sauce is quality, mate. You should actually try it one day. It's literally mint." I tasted the crêpe. "Mmm," I said. "That's good. Fluffier than it looks. That's mustard, William, mate. You made this? It's top." Baggers and Sarah smiled. I had another bite. "Tastes like England in some indefinable way. Somehow a bit less, you know, snooty and pompous than your average crêpe. Bit more yeomanlike, isn't it? Tasty treat after a long day in the fields grafting, providing for your family. Not like some crêpes where you feel like you have to sit and listen to a lecture about pointillism before you're allowed to tuck in."

Henri nodded. "I made the crêpes."

"In that case," I said, as I pulled another one onto my plate, "you have both tricked me and tantalised my taste buds. Well played, sir. Well played."

Henri smiled and took one for himself. "Wibbers made them."

"Wow, this is making me dizzy. It's like in the seminal movie 300 where it isn't clear who are the goodies and who are the baddies."

"That movie is cartoonishly clear, Max."

"Is it? I don't remember. I bought it on Blu-ray; we should watch it later because it's going to be the theme for Thursday's team talk."

"After the match we are all leaving the apartment and I intend to triple-lock the door. I must ask you to take your disc with you; I promised the landlord I wouldn’t leave any trash."

I shrugged and stirred my tea. "The posse goes where I say."

"Not on a beautiful Saturday when our girlfriends are here. If you want to watch your mindless comic book movie, go ahead. I will be on a beach discussing art and culture with my artful and cultured partner."

I tutted. "Whoever made the pancakes, they're dead nice." Across from me, Sarah leaned on the kitchen island. She was looking healthy, relaxed, and had a nice, natural tan. The last part wasn't something I was always able to say about our female players. I pointed. "You look like a tennis player."

She broke out into a big smile. "Is that a compliment?"

"Yeah, I think so! They always look like they would be fun at parties, those tennis girls."

"That seems problematic so I'm not going to interrogate that," said Sarah. "I saw you did a few more men's contracts. The rest of the goalies. I thought you wasn't gonna do any yet but you did loads."

"Mmm, yeah, the plan was to wait. But Ruth flew out here and pulled my pants down while everyone watched. Somehow it wasn't as much fun as in my fantasies." Baggers nearly choked on an olive. "So anyway, I didn't think to tell them not to announce the deals so suddenly there was this whole raft of announcements and I had a problem. Why's Max talking to him but not me? And to be honest I enjoyed talking about contracts as a distraction from thinking about Aris and Greek mythology." Jesse Picardo wandered into the kitchen and was thrilled to hear some real-life squadbuilding. "And I was waiting for my Blu-ray to arrive so I got on the phone. The first issue to solve was Sticky. He was on a month-to-month, technically, so I called him and asked if he wanted to wait till I was back or if we could hash something out quickly. He said he'd prefer to get a fixed-term deal for the security and he's got it in his head it's better for his credit rating. It wasn't too hard to negotiate that one, surprisingly. He's happy and I've kept my promises and he knows he'll get loads of minutes this season."

"Oh," said Sarah. "Isn't Swanny miles better?"

Ian Swan was the best goalie at the club and in about twenty minutes would be starting against Northampton with CA 93. Sticky was CA 85. "He's better, yeah, but I'm not sure about miles. They're totally different keepers. It's very much horses for courses with them."

"Horses for courses?" said Jesse.

"You know horse racing? The state of the ground is really important. The going's firm, they say. What else? Soft. They've got their own jargon for it but there are some horses who like it firm. Ooh, matron! That'd be like Sharky or Pascal. They need solid footing, right, so they can go fast. Your Glenn Ryders don't mind a bit of mud. They're not fast anyway and they've got that different type of stamina. So horses for courses means you pick your horse depending on the conditions."

Jesse nodded at Henri. "When do you pick him?"

I smiled. "He's a man for all seasonings."

Henri didn't react facially, but went to a cupboard and came back with a little jar of mint sauce that he pushed next to the plate of crêpes. Everyone laughed except Jesse, who must have thought we were mental.

Sticky's new wages were £2,400 a week, an increase of almost £400. It was League Two wages for a League Two standard player, but there was also his delightful Coaching Goalkeepers 20 to consider. I would have gone a little higher if he had pushed me.

Once Sticky was in the bag, I had called Swanny's agent and offered him the same amount if he extended his contract. The agent was delighted, saying he hadn't expected an increase since his client had only signed in January. I replied that I thought Swanny had a lot of improvement left in him and I hoped his wages would prove a bargain.

Swanny's PA was 127, Sticky's was 122. Both could play in the Championship, then, if they fulfilled their potential. I wondered about that - Sticky was just starting to run out of time to make the grade. He would turn 32 this season which for a goalie wasn't super old but he did need a good season otherwise there was a risk of him becoming increasingly marginalised and never reaching his potential.

That left young Rainman. Like the entire squad he had featured in at least two of our pre-season friendlies and he had added 6 points of CA since returning from his break. He was now CA 55, nine points ahead of Banksy. It seemed strange and wrong to pay Rainman (older, better) less than Banksy, but that's what I was doing. Rainman had moved up to 750 a week, which was probably close to my limit for him. I would want to move him on at some point and didn't want big wages holding him back. His PA was 99, so he could easily play in League One when he peaked.

The decision about which goalie to loan to Saltney wasn't hard - Rainman was keen to go. He knew I could only send three to Saltney and he wanted to be one of them. Someone else could miss out, he said. Bosh.

"Yeah, so," I said, remembering Jesse's question. "Swanny's good with his feet so we'll use him when we expect to boss possession, and Sticky's taller and meaner so he's great if we're playing against a long-ball team or a set piece team."

"Um, I know," said Jesse. He pointed to Baggers. "He just explained it to me while you were sort of... staring."

"Oh. Good."

Emma popped in. "Max! We've got about quarter of an hour left. I've got an idea. Come into the living room, everyone!"

***

Emma led me inside and sat me down on a chair that was placed just in front of the giant TV. Everyone else settled into place, perching on the arms of the sofa, leaning against walls, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

I closed my eyes and thought about the eleven players that Sandra had named in today's match, then tried to compare them to teams of the past.

Ian Swan, CA 93.

The starting goalkeeper when I joined Chester had been Robbie 'Robbo' Robson and I was pretty sure his CA that January had been 39. My notes were slightly confusing because I had another entry putting him at CA 37.

How? All at once, it came back to me. Under Ian Evans and Vimsy, our CAs had at times actually trended down. Bad culture, bad results, outdated methods, playing injured players, no rotation. It was a complete mess. I had put a stop to that sort of decline and I'd also binned off slash eased out guys who couldn't improve any further.

We had started the next season, the one after my murder, with Ben Cavanagh on a paltry CA 35. Ben took over from Robbo during that season and started our National League campaign on CA 45, and the League Two season on CA 63.

So, discounting Robbo's 39, which was recorded in January, our main goalie's initial CA in our most recent seasons had gone... 35, 45, 63... 93.

That was a big jump.

The tiny scientist who lived in my head (part-time) told me I wasn't comparing apples with apples - at the very start of pre-season, Swanny had been CA 89. Still, the point stood; I had prepared for this moment very, very well. So why was I so nervous?

The answer was FOMO. Fear Of MOrtification.

Emma gave me a little shake. I snapped out of my thoughts; everyone was looking at me. "Okay," I said. "What are we doing?"

"We're going back in time," said Emma. "You probably don’t know this because you get your knowledge of history from comic books - "

"Graphic novels."

"But in the olden days there was no Insta or TikTok. For entertainment, people used to gather around the radio and listen to things. Together. Can you believe it?"

I nodded. "I can. I wrote my PhD about Princess Diana's wedding. 1982 it was, which by coincidence was the year FM radio got invented. The royal wedding sparked a massive surge in interest in this new technology. Twenty million Brits huddled around brand-new radios, listening to descriptions of it all."

"We had TV then," said one of the neighbours, snarkily.

"What are we to enjoy together?" said Henri, the peacemaker.

"Pyramid Schemers," said Emma. "It's a podcast where they talk about the football clubs outside the Premier League. Every year they make predictions about what will happen and who will finish where. Max likes them, even though they are usually wrong about everything. Last time they said Chester would finish twentieth - that's out of twenty-four, but of course we came third and would have won if the season had just been a tiny bit longer."

I suddenly realised the absurdity of the situation. "Hang on, bebs. This is actually a great idea. It's some context about the match we're going to watch. That's really thoughtful of you. But why am I sitting here, facing everyone?"

"So we can watch your reactions."

"Oh. That seems very entertaining... for everyone else."

"You can watch our reactions to your reactions, babes."

Baggers said, "She's done you there, boss."

Pascal checked the time. "How long is the episode?"

"We're not listening to the whole thing," said Emma. "I only listen to the parts about us. One day one of these podcast nerds is going to say something actionable and I'm going to..." She trailed off as she entered into a reverie. She shook her head. "Okay, everyone hush. Wibbers, stop crunching those crisps for a couple of minutes. Here we go!"

***

Extract from Pyramid Schemers, the original and best podcast dedicated to the 72 teams in tiers 2-4.

Rocky: And that's why we're predicting that Blackpool will finish eleventh.

Mike: Moving on to the club we have in twelfth place... it's the FA Youth Cup holders. It's Best's Babes. It's Chester.

Rocky: Chester...

Mike: Third in League Two last season, with decent cup runs. They surprised Manchester United in the FA Cup and fought tooth and nail against an admittedly weakened Newcastle United team. They also absolutely dismantled Bolton Wanderers, who will not be happy about facing Max Best two more times. He was incandescent with rage after a shocking tackle in that match.

Rocky: He doesn't seem the sort to hold grudges. [They both laugh.] I'm joking. He's going to wreck Bolton twice, no doubt about it.

Mike: A few basic data points. First, Chester have won three back-to-back promotions and while they have invested in their training ground and the stadium, they're far from a League One club in terms of infrastructure.

Rocky: Or wages. At sixty thousand pounds per week, they have the lowest wage bill in the division. Peterborough are close, then come Crawley Town. A handful of clubs have budgets in five figures, but the vast majority are paying out over a hundred grand a week. Your beloved Oxford United are shelling out two hundred thousand pounds per week. Can Chester realistically compete with that? Can they escape financial gravity? Again?

Mike: Most of their players have never played a minute of League One football. Another issue - their talismanic player-manager will start the season... on loan in Gibraltar.

Rocky: Unconventional.

Mike: We know he does mad things but last time, when he took a month off to save Tranmere from relegation, his team were flying. This time last season, also after a jump to a higher standard, Chester were getting battered twice a week and Max Best was the only thing keeping them afloat. He really should be at home, doing his job, making sure his club get off to a decent start.

Rocky: I don't think there are many who would disagree with you there. What about their squad, and what about their transfer business?

Mike: The squad is very hard to read. Clearly by the end of the season they were too good for League Two, but how much of that was because of the sensational form of Foquita? They have replaced him with Gabriel from Tranmere Rovers.

Rocky: Paying big money for the privilege.

Mike: Eight hundred thousand pounds for a striker with a middling goalscoring return. Is that good business? If you look at his record, look at his underlying numbers, no. But would you bet against him coming good?

Rocky: Absolutely not. And if he was a splashy look-at-me-I've-got-a-Brazilian-striker signing, there were some quite astute moves in the free transfer market. In comes Fitzroy Hall for centre-back depth. You know I've always liked him.

Mike: You have.

Rocky: In comes Colin Beckton.

Mike: Wow. I mean, why wasn't there a queue for his services? I think Colin Beckton in League One is actually unfair. Fans of other clubs need to get a petition going to put a stop to it.

Rocky: I wouldn't go that far but he's a player who could still be banging them in at Championship level.

Mike: He wants to get into coaching and Chester was his best bet.

Rocky: His best bet indeed. But guess who else came on a free? Wearing the number 4 shirt, appearing in pre-season friendlies as a player... It's Peter Bauer.

Mike: I don't know what's going on with that one. It feels like Max Best is trolling us. Trolling the entire football community. Peter Bauer was a promising young player at Bayern Munich until a career-ending injury made him pursue a career in coaching. Chester signing him as a coach is an incredible coup. But the thing about career-ending injuries is that they end careers. So what's going on?

Rocky: Absolutely no clue, mate. All we know is Peter Bauer got some serious FOMO when he heard Best was making early moves in the transfer market. He practically begged to join, which is bewildering and inexplicable.

Mike: How have they managed to hold onto Youngster and William Roberts?

Rocky: Absolutely no clue, mate. Chester are turning down massive offers for those two. It's bewildering and inexplicable. I see a squad with good goalies. Not great, but good. Looks like it could be a solid defence and Matt Rush on loan from Man U will add some real verve to their team. Skip the midfield for a second. They have a fleet of strikers who bring different things to the table. Useful. Back to the midfield. Charlie Dugdale loves Max Best football - if his numbers stay like they did since he joined Chester, he'll have an incredible season. I don't see much in central midfield or on the right... until Best returns from his jaunt. At that point, there's the potential for this team to explode.

Mike: They go on runs, don't they? Four wins in a row, six, seven.

Rocky: Not many draws. They aren't Chester drawers. They're Chester winners.

Mike: Badum-tish.

Rocky: All of which brings us to the burning question - why have we got them predicted to finish exactly in mid-table?

Mike: It's time for a rare peek behind the curtain here at Pyramid Schemers Towers.

Rocky: Hang on, why do we live in a tower?

Mike: We should live in a pyramid, you're saying? Wherever it is, join us in our boudoir and watch as we lift our skirts. Bit of ankle, anyone? How this process normally works is that we make our lists separately and then we come together and discuss our individual rankings and synthesise them. It doesn't ever produce a table we're both happy with, but it's usually an interesting in, a fun way to talk about these great football clubs. We rarely have a situation where I think a team will finish top three and Rocky thinks bottom three. But that's what we've got.

Rocky: I can't remember it happening before. I'm not sure the best solution is to put them in the dead middle but we couldn't agree on anything else.

Mike: Let me explain my thoughts first. Max Best isn't in Gibraltar because he's flighty and unserious. I mean, he is to some extent, sure, but mostly he's there because he's happy with his Chester squad. He's happy with his assistant manager. He's on record as saying he expects to smash this league. I don't see much reason to argue with him. There are five or six big, big clubs with serious money who he'll have to beat, and if two of them get their acts together maybe the most Chester can hope for is to finish third.

Rocky: Which would be incredible and the best result in their history.

Mike: If you'll just inhale and let me finish. [He breathes loudly as a guide for his friend to follow.] Max Best won the FA Youth Cup last season, beating multiple Premier League teams along the way. That's him beating Prem opposition and he's currently rampaging around Europe with a ragtag band of mercenaries. There isn't a manager in League One you think has the tactical chops to outfox Best on any particular day. Chester's squad isn't perfect but it contains a lot of solutions to a lot of problems. My position is that any team that finishes above Chester have probably won the league. Okay, done.

Rocky: That's well-argued and I agonised over this because there are moments when I think what you're saying is obviously true but then you look at the Peter Bauer situation. That's a big contract he's on, and that money could have gone to a box-to-box midfielder, something Chester haven't had since Raffi Brown departed. There are lots of small examples of moves which look strange. The Gabriel transfer, for example. Was that the best use of Chester's limited funds? Is it right to rely on a 38-year-old Ryan Jack to unpick packed defences? What do Andrew Harrison, Lee Contreras, and Magnus Evergreen offer except work rate and endeavour? If Charlie Dugdale is injured do you have enough creativity?

Mike: Max Best. Pascal Bochum. William Roberts. Matt Rush.

Rocky: But the main issue is Best himself. He is brilliant. You can't shoot a team up three divisions and not be brilliant. You see him take his army unit to their cup final, you hear the way some other managers talk about him. He's the real deal... probably. The data is at times confusing and contradictory. Okay but why is he in Gibraltar? For listeners who don't know, this summer Chester tore up their pitch, tore down one of the stands, and while the rebuild is underway they will play every fixture... until mid-October... away from home. That's thirteen matches, including cups, and could be as many as fifteen. Fifteen away days, all up and down the country. Buses, hotels, more buses, more hotels. A fading photo of some people you vaguely remember. Turns out it's your family. There are precedents for this sort of thing and most are very, very bad. Max Best needs to be there and the fact that he isn't says to me that he is getting bored of Chester FC. He has done all he can do, he has set them up and improved their youth teams, given them a platform to build on, but he's restless and he needs a new challenge. If I were Hull or Bristol City, clubs in the Championship who are probably going to need a new manager sooner rather than later, I'd be putting Max Best on speed dial. My prediction for the season is that College 1975 is not the only other team Max Best will manage. And when he leaves, the spiral for Chester could be rapid and unpleasant.

Mike: Or they'll finish top three. Next we've got Salford City...

***

Emma pressed pause. The room fell silent. Noises from the outside world seeped inside Poncho Villa. A car. A seagull. An oil tanker deftly avoiding a tax bill.

I broke the ice. "Round of applause for my face?" There was a crackle of claps. At first I had been trying to keep my expression neutral, to not give anything away, but the podcast was super fascinating. Being analysed to that level by someone honest, by someone with skills who's making a genuine attempt to get inside the club, inside your mind, it's actually thrilling. Addictive. I loved listening to these prediction episodes and it was actually a super useful way to quickly learn about my opponents. Annoyingly, I slipped right into teacher mode and picked someone from the class. "Glenn, what did you think?"

"That's what I want to know from you. When you get intense like that, you're impossible to read."

I thought about it. "Those lads are really good. They see more than most fans and they get close to the truth but they fixate on the wrong things. What was it they said? Most of our players have never played in League One? That's quite an interesting detail to pick out, isn't it? But then they skip over it. I actually think it's incredibly pertinent to today's game. Swanny, Duggers, and Colin have played League One before. Having eight guys who never played this level could be an issue, right? Matt Rush, Youngster, and Dazza have played at a higher level, you could argue, but that might not prepare you for this particular combination of speed and skill. It's not just skill levels, it's how the referees are, how much media attention you get, how many avenues there are to be told you're shit. Now when we play in cups we're not always the plucky underdog. To League Two teams we're a scalp, aren't we? It'll be hard to get used to being favourites in more and more matches! I'm not worried about physicality; we came from non-league and we can handle ourselves. I'm not worried about the speed of the game but would it be a huge surprise if it took us a few matches to work out how to approach this division?"

One of the neighbours said, "Do you hold grudges?"

"Big time." I couldn't see a reason not to use Bench Boost in our first fixture against Bolton Wanderers. After what they did to Pascal, when it came to Bolton my motto was pretend to forgive, never forget.

Pascal said, "What are the chances you would move to Hull or Bristol City?"

"If I was going to go anywhere in the Championship, it would be Stoke City."

"What?" laughed Emma. "Is this an inside joke you never told me about?"

"The family that owns Stoke own a massive gambling company. They're richer than God but they can't put their money into the club because they don't know how to get around the financial rules. Brooke and I would turn them into the biggest sporting organisation in the world within five years. Our reign of terror would be absolute, and close to eternal. The best thing is, Stoke itself is within go-kart distance of Manchester. If I was gonna do the billionaire thing, that's how I'd do it. Hmm. Henri, put a pin in this moment. If you ever discover time travel, come back and show me what happens in the Chester path and convince me to enter the Stoke dimension."

Luisa was in a tiny, contented bundle by the end of the sofa, leaning against Henri's legs. She said, "They said one thing right. So many matches away from your home. My father always said home advantage is worth half a goal. You are good to Sandra Lane but is it fair to, how you say, dump her right in it?"

I smiled at her phrasing before getting serious. I rose from the chair and moved it out of the way; Baggers bagged it and put it in a place where Sarah could sit. The cuteness briefly distracted me. "Did I dump her in it? I can answer that. You see..." I took a few paces to the right before turning back to the left. This was going to be a big speech. "My favourite movie is 300, in which three hundred Spartan warriors do battle against a million Persians."

"No no no," said Emma. "We're not talking about your stupid comic book movie."

"They throw their babies into the woods and they either learn to fight or they don't come back! It's pertinent!"

"I don't give a fuck," said Emma. "That movie is boy garbage. Save it for when it's just boys."

"Or not," said Henri.

"Okay," said Pascal, as he eased me aside and turned the TV on. "Much as I'd like to hear the Godfather's take on parenting, I don't want to miss out on the action. It is bad enough not being there. Come on you Seals!"

"Wait wait wait!" I called out. I held up the Blu-ray box for the greatest movie of all time. "Anyone who wants to stay later and do a watch party..."

My suggestion was drowned out, and I was amazed to find I was even being heckled by one of the neighbours. Like they had anything better to do.

***

I sat in my premium spot on the side of the sofa and briefly fretted. Was Luisa right? Had I dropped Sandra right in it?

Pre-season had gone fairly well, I reckoned. Bumpers Bank was still something of a building site and there were days when the electricity failed or the water was out, but most of the time the lads could train, use the gym, and shower. There were top coaches doing interesting sessions and something close to the optimal balance between old and new faces.

The numbers suggested I had got things right. Most players had added between 3 and 6 CA points. Perhaps I should say 'recovered', since in most cases they were merely getting back to the levels of last season, but the younger, less seasoned players got better rapidly.

One slight concern was that Youngster only added one point, but that took him to a monumental CA 105; he would start the season as one of the best midfielders in the league. He was gold, approaching platinum, in my new metal rankings.