Prologue

The light that hung from the ceiling flickered and the weary eyed man beneath it looked up. A car passed outside and broke the silence that was filling the room. It was one of those moments that could have lasted forever if he’d let it. No one likes to have to make a decision, no one sensible at least. John Green was sensible. He spun gently in his chair.

A knock came at the door. John looked. People didn’t stay this late, except himself of course. The handle turned and a tall bald man entered the room. Rather his moustache entered, the rest of him seemed to follow. John gazed at this man, coincidentally also named John Green but affectionately referred to as “Bald John Green”.

Everyone thinks that they’ll know what to do when finally faced with a situation that they’ve been running incessantly through their head. Whether this is true or not is inconclusive, maybe if John had run this situation in his head he would have known what to do.

It had been almost two years now since John Green had been appointed manager of League 1 minnows, Swindon Town Swoodilypoopers and in that time he had built an incredible rapport with his players, not least this tall bald man.

Bald John Green looked at his manager; each knew what the other wanted to say. John stood up from behind is desk and drew a breath in before speaking.

“I don’t know what to do next.”

Bald John didn’t react, he didn’t do as much as blink, he had complete faith in his manager but the last few months had been difficult, it seemed impossible to find any solutions. John continued, “Take a seat.” It wasn’t an order, it was a request. Bald John Green took his seat and the two men stared at each other a little longer. It wasn’t an awkward silence; it was just a contemplative moment, words matter in moments like this.

Some stories need to be taken in context. This is one of those stories. Let’s rewind. This is the miracle of Swindon Town.