*Dear Dychey is Paddy Power’s Agony Aunt column. Any apparent resemblance to any figures around football is purely coincidental.
Dr Dychey (Definitely Not Sean Dyche), grab your scalpel of sound reasoning and cut into the ailing psyche of the bemused…
My old team’s fallen on hard times and I thought I could lend a hand to their cause – I’ve put them to use before.
But not for the first time I’ve stuck them where they don’t belong – Irlande, a million times I am sorry, but mon Dieu, give me a break!
We’ve been cursed by injuries. It’s almost like I committed some terrible crime against cosmic justice and now its come back to bite my derriere.
After 19 games in charge we’ve won only four, and relegation looking a certainty if I cannot find the magic touch.
Frankly, I much preferred pontificating on Sky to getting my hands dirty – the English think everything sounds smarter in a French accent.
That’s how Arsene held on so long. Quels imbéciles!
I’ve learned from the best – well, Roberto Martinez – and want to roll up my sleeves to save my old team.
But with things going so badly, maybe it’d be better if I pitched this one to someone else – William Gallas perhaps – to rescue things.
What should I do?
Dr Dychey says:
Terry, firstly, it’s admirable that you’ve been willing throw yourself into this job.
Plenty would fear getting their fingers burnt by such a flaming mess, but you’re clearly not one to worry about looking like a massive plum – even Jonny Walters says he wouldn’t cheat as flagrantly as you did back in the day, and he’d rob his granny for a sniff of goal!
There’s a chance some forces beyond nature are conspiring against you as punishment, but if I know anything about karmic justice I would guess you’re more likely to find your soul swapped with a flea trapped in Big Sam’s undercrackers, doomed to listen to his endless bleating about all the ways he’s been done over through his career for however long you can survive in the foaming waves of scrotal sweat.
Or, yeah, maybe it’s this injury crisis.
As for the job itself, some people are meant to handle the pressure of the management and some’ll just always fumble on the big occasion.
I hardly need to mention Joe Hart again, do I?
You also seem to have a grasp of your strengths.
Blathering on the box comes naturally to some, and if you’ve got a foreign accent, all the better – it certainly helps get you a bigger jobs in the management game, not that I’m bitter…
While looking thoughtful and moody as you try not to laugh at Bobby Martinez is clearly a great skill to have on your CV, saying “yes boss” and laying out the cones at training will only get you so far when you’re in the hot seat.
Look at Gary Neville.
He tried at Valencia, failed spectacularly, and realised management wasn’t for him.
Now he tells us all where we’re going wrong – and he should know because he’s clearly at expert at it!
Knowing your strengths means knowing your weaknesses too.
You’re clutching at straws if you think your reputation and va-va-voom will carry you to success in the top job.
Get a grip on yourself and what you really want to do and then you can seize the day easier than a looping cross that Paul McShane clearly should stick his head on, and can mold your future as you wish.
If that’s kicking back on Super Sunday, c’est la vie.