by Chris Harris
Finding an administrator had become the challenge of the week. Greg’s approach to business, and a reason for its success, had never involved procrastination. If something needed doing, it was done quickly and decisively.
He had used recruitment agencies in the past, but the results had rarely been encouraging. Too often, they produced candidates who looked impressive on paper but proved uninspiring in reality. Greg had learned that the best people tended to appear through conversation and reputation rather than formal channels. After all, that was exactly how he had assembled the excellent board of directors at the football club—through word of mouth.
So when Lucy Lotwell mentioned someone living in Lewes who might be suitable, Greg was more than happy to take the call.
The man was Michael Hall, semi-retired after a career as an administrative director at a large accountancy firm. Financially independent and no longer interested in the grind of full-time corporate life, he sounded exactly the kind of person Greg had hoped to find.
Michael explained that he would happily spend a month working full-time at the club, clearing the administrative backlog and putting proper systems in place. After that, he could remain involved in a supervisory capacity.
Greg arranged to meet him that evening at the ground.
He had decided it would be a good opportunity to show willing by joining Piotr’s training session. Greg was feeling slightly out of shape and thought a bit of exercise might do him good. Besides, he wouldn’t mind the chance to impress Catherine Brown.
William arrived at six. Training was due to start at seven.
Greg took to him immediately. It seemed to happen every time he met someone connected with the club: he was always slightly surprised by the enthusiasm people showed for the project. Sometimes he wondered whether that enthusiasm was something he generated himself, or whether he had simply been extraordinarily lucky.
Whatever the explanation, Michael Hall was brimming with it.
By the time seven o’clock came around, the deal had already been agreed. William proposed a flat fee for a month’s work—long enough, he believed, to bring order to the chaos in the office. But he added something unexpected.
Rather than continuing in a part-time role purely for financial remuneration, he would prefer to buy into the project itself in return for a place on the board.
Semi-retired, with only occasional consulting work, he was looking for something more interesting than another income stream.
Greg Lyons remarkable run of luck, it seemed, was continuing unabated.
Nearly the entire women’s team turned up for the training session, along with half a dozen of the under-18s, all showing willing ahead of the first proper training session on Thursday.
It was normal to see sides at this level struggling to muster a handful of players for fitness work on a Monday evening. Seeing over two dozen people there felt remarkable.
Catherine joined in as well. She had to leave a little early, but there was a continued warmth between her and Greg. The atmosphere around the pitch was jovial and relaxed. For an hour Piotr, not wanting to create a boot camp atmosphere, cajoled the less enthusiastic and challenged the more so.
Greg realised the schedule they were drifting towards was becoming increasingly demanding. Monday fitness sessions, usually a game on Tuesday, squad training for the women and under18s on Wednesday, the first team on Thursday, and then the regular Saturday fixture. As the women’s leagues normally played on Sundays, last season’s occasional two-day football weeks had been enjoyable, but this was rapidly becoming a full-week commitment.
Even the board meetings had shifted. Originally planned for Thursdays, they had now moved to Wednesdays.
Lady Luck, however, had seemed determined to keep smiling.
In the FA Trophy, the FA Cup equivalent for non-league clubs, the team had received a bye in the first round after their opponents went into administration. In the FA Cup preliminary round, the side they were due to play failed to produce a full team and were disqualified. Denham Phoenix were already through to the next round of the Sussex Senior Cup.
This week, then, had become cup week.
On Tuesday night the team travelled to Wingate & Finchley in the FA Trophy. It proved to be a successful trip, returning with a hard-earned 1–0 victory.
Glenn Nelson, who had caused something of a scene after the Haywards Heath match last Saturday, scoring his first goal and appearing considerably more humble. Clearly someone had had a word with him.
Meanwhile, Michael Hall, already introduced to everyone as a friend of Lucy’s, had begun settling into the club. From the way he and Lucy exchanged smiles and occasional laughter, you suspected the friendship between them was quietly developing. Despite the twenty-year age gap, they seemed overly at ease in each other’s company.
Michael had already begun contacting the relevant authorities, and to everyone’s surprise he moved quickly. The club had spent months dithering about entering the women’s and under-18 sides into leagues for the following season.
Michael had already done it.
He had applied for Denham Phoenix FC to join the Sussex County Women Girls Football League and the Under 18’s to join th Sussex County Youth Football League.
Dean explained that Ed had already begun putting out feelers out for more under-18 players. At that level, most players were drawn from the local area. For many young footballers it was a rite of passage. Unless you were exceptional enough to be picked up by a professional academy, you learned the game at your local club.
Parents, more often than not, preferred it that way.
Suddenly Denham Phoenix felt like a much bigger club. Next season they would have three competitive teams.
If nothing else, Thursday was always going to be a busy one. And quick, the men were due to train from eight. From next week, the training would move to Wednesday to be finished by eight so Catherine could attend the board meeting. There had been the one women’s training session the previous week, and this was the second, now combined with the under-18s. A group of giggling, overexcited, hormone laden, teenagers alongside a women’s squad trying to take things seriously was always going to create a certain imbalance. The priority for the under-18s seemed less about training and more about the novelty of sharing the pitch with the women.
Piotr and Catherine had initially assumed they could at least begin the evening together with fitness and conditioning work. It quickly became clear that this was not going to happen. Anticipating some difficulty, Piotr had already given Catherine and Beth a set of stamina drills to work through separately while he tried to bring some order to the younger group of lads assembled in front of him.
With varying degrees of enthusiasm, they followed him, jogging around the pitch.
Spotting indiscipline Piotr stopped and addressed them directly.
“If you want to keep up, keep up. If you want to mess around at the back, then don’t bother being here. You’re not at school. You don’t have to attend. I’m not a gym teacher. If you’re here to mess about, all you will do is slow down the people who actually want to train. I’m not being paid to do this, and it isn’t much fun for me. So we can stop now and call it a day, and I’ll spend my time recruiting players who actually want to be here.”
There was no shouting or anger, just quiet authority. And it worked. The group responded, and almost immediately the behaviour settled.
For Piotr, it was an important moment. Moving to England had taken a toll on his confidence, and the early months had been uncertain, being kicked out of his house. But slowly things were beginning to change. Ever since the burglary incident he had dealt with so decisively, something had shifted. His confidence was returning.
As the cones were laid out for the next stage of the session and the teams split into a short practice match, what stood out was how seriously everyone began to take it. The atmosphere became focused, even professional.
Greg watched from the touchline, partly out of interest and partly as an excuse to remain near Catherine Brown. He found himself genuinely impressed by what Catherine and Piotr had managed to organise in such a short space of time.
In his business life, moments like that would usually prompt him to hand out bonuses. But this was different. Here the reward seemed to be something else entirely. Everyone involved was contributing towards the same goal, and the satisfaction came from building something together. Greg was also conscious that his financial backing was helping to make the project possible, and the volunteers seemed quietly appreciative of that support.
The least he could do was buy everyone a drink afterwards, so they gathered at the Red Lion. Greg, Catherine Brown, Dean, Piotr, Catherine Brown and a few others settled into a table with pints and began talking about the next few weeks.
Catherine had been, for her, in a slightly agitated state all evening and with a couple of drinks down her she was brimming with something. She couldn’t contain herself and spilled the beans. Everyone knew she had previously applied to appear on the BBC programme Dragon’s Den, hoping to attract investment to expand her business. After the difficulties surrounding the Mr Dribble episode, she had contacted the production team, who took the view that it was a story that would add some real theatre to her pitch, and she had therefore managed to secure a place to pitch on a programme.
Filming was scheduled for just before Christmas, with the programme expected to air in April.
“What am I going to wear?” Catherine asked. “And what about presentation materials? I know the production team will guide me, but I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“I’m sure Lottie will be able to help,” Greg said, before realising that Lucy may not be a great subject for her.
To his surprise Catherine responded positively.
“That’s a good idea. I’ll send her a message.”
A few minutes later she stood up.
“I might go and see her now and have a quick chat.”
She said goodbye and left.
Greg was not entirely sure whether that was a good sign or a bad one, but it was certainly an improvement on the tension of a few weeks earlier. Later that evening he went home and began searching online for information about Dragon’s Den, determined that if Catherine wanted advice he would at least understand how the process worked.
Meanwhile the football season had continued.
The FA Trophy, on the Saturday, effectively the FA Cup for non league teams, can create a similar sense of occasion. But, just as Premier League clubs often treat the early FA Cup rounds cautiously, attendances at this level also tend to grow only if a team progresses further into the competition.
Despite Dean’s efforts to promote the fixture, only around 180 people turned up for the match. For the board and volunteers, however, the afternoon still had a familiar feeling. It reminded them of the final weeks of the previous season when the club had operated in a more relaxed and informal way, before responsibilities had grown.
On the pitch Glenn Nelson was outstanding, scoring four goals against a dismal Sevenoaks side and celebrated the third by running towards the touchline to high five Ed, last week’s hissy fit now clearly forgotten.
After the match the volunteers gathered outside the clubhouse. It was still warm for mid September, and the mood was relaxed. Catherine, who would normally be rushing around managing the catering and making sure everything ran smoothly, allowed herself to slow down and simply enjoy the evening. The board and volunteers had a rare moment where everyone else except a few stragglers had gone home and they held an impromptu party for the board and volunteers.
It was a funny evening. As the beers went down, Greg found himself reflecting on what a remarkable group of people had gradually formed around the football club.
Catherine, with her sharp eye for detail, seemed to have complete command of the catering, the large matchday wet and dry sales, and the organisation of events. She also kept a careful watch over the expanding infrastructure, making sure everything functioned smoothly. Dean continued to push forward with the club’s marketing, which was clearly helping to grow the crowds on match days. Lucy, quietly but confidently, kept the finances under control as the club expanded at a pace none of them had quite anticipated. Big Mal overseeing the home game management and Economical Tony engulfed, now, in three infrastructure projects.
And now there was Michael Hall. He had proved to be something of a godsend, bringing order to the administration and quietly sorting through the paperwork that had previously threatened to overwhelm everyone.
Another important development was that Catherine Brown had now taken on the licence for the clubhouse, adding yet another piece to the structure that was slowly taking shape.
At moments like this Greg often found himself staring into his phone, scrolling through plans and photographs of the new clubhouse that was slowly beginning to emerge. When he looked up and saw the portacabins, the diggers, the piles of aggregate and the temporary barriers surrounding the site, he knew there was no turning back.
In truth, he had never doubted the decision. The whole project had always felt instinctive. Now, looking around, he could see that the blueprint for the club was finally in place.
It made him quietly happy.
He also understood that the larger the project became, the more likely problems and crises would appear from time to time. But with the loyal and capable group of people around him, he felt largely protected against those inevitable moments.
Later in the evening he fell into a long conversation with Piotr. The more Greg spoke to him, the more he wondered whether Piotr might be Lady Luck’s greatest contribution to the club so far.
Catherine had been the driving force behind establishing the women’s team and the under-18s. But Piotr had arrived almost out of nowhere, taken hold of those projects, and begun running them with quiet efficiency and professionalism.
For Greg, it was another reminder that the club now relied on many different people, each playing an important part and how he could single handedly run his own business but how this was entirely a group effort.
#Football #Non League #Content Creation #Football Serial #Denham Phoenix FC
Welcome to Denham nr Lewes 