And for the mighty Avoca FC Gummysharks

      Foreword

      Sometimes dreams can come true.

       When I was a wee lad of five years of age, I used to tell my mother I’d play for Rangers when I grew up and earn a PS100 a week. I never did get to play for Rangers, but when I signed for Kilmarnock (my home town club) in 1982, it was still the greatest day of my life. The football adventure that most lads can only dream about had begun. I was twenty years old.

      These days, the football adventure starts much earlier. We have systems to identify and nurture talented kids, and as we go forward, it will be extremely unlikely that a twenty-year-old could join a professional club without having been on their radar for a very long time.

      What chance then would a forty-year-old have?

      Eric Judd (Mr Cleansheets) is thirty-nine at the start of the story and turns forty shortly after landing in England. Is it realistically possible for him to become a major football star at forty? Common sense would tell you ‘No’, but that is one of the many wonderful features of Mr Cleansheets - the story is believable within the world that Adrian Deans has created. Whether it’s the fact that goalkeepers typically mature late, or that Eric’s played state league his whole career, or that he had an invitation to trial with Man United when he was sixteen, or even just the depth of his passion for the game, Eric’s story is just plausible and that’s what makes it such a satisfying read. You couldn’t take it seriously otherwise.

      Mind you, it’s not to be taken too seriously. The book’s a lot of fun: hapless hooligans, Irish villains, beautiful pop stars, terrorist conspiracies. It’s the ultimate holiday read - a non-stop rollicking yarn that keeps the pages turning, and if you’re anything like me, you’ll be starting to panic as the pages disappear in your right hand.

      We desperately need a sequel and if I had my way, Mr Cleansheets would be pulling on the Mariners strip the next time we play in the Asian Champions League.

      We’ll all keep our fingers crossed for that . . . with the possible exception of Danny Vukovic.

      Lawrie McKinna

      Gosford, January 2010

      Acknowledgments

      At the risk of carrying on like some dickhead on Oscar night, it is important that I acknowledge the contribution of certain individuals in the creation of this book.

      First, I should thank my mother, who nagged and screeched at me to be a writer from my earliest days.

      Secondly, I would like to thank Russ Radcliffe, who read the opening chapters and recommended I contact Ian Syson from Vulgar Press.

      Thirdly, I would like to thank Ian for sharing my enthusiasm but forcing me to make the book a hell of a lot better before he would publish it. Thanks also to Talia Page for her editing. (It’s amazing what you can miss despite reading the manuscript over 200 times!)

      I want to thank the Dartford Town Sewer Pigs. As Bill Shankly so famously said: “Some people think football is a matter of life and death. I don’t like that attitude. I can assure them it is much more serious than that.” The DTSP would thoroughly endorse that sentiment and I genuinely doubt whether I’ve ever had a conversation with any of the Pigs over 40 years of friendship which didn’t touch on football. I wouldn’t be the person I am and couldn’t have written this book without them.

      Staying with the porcine theme, I also want to thank the Guinea Pigs - the friends and colleagues who read drafts of the book, ventured opinions and encouraged me to keep going. They really are too numerous to list but I must thank Raftl, Pete, Steve, Brett, Ant, Nick, Roni, Charl, Woodsie, Paul Green and Bruce. Bruce reckons he’s read it over 30 times! (He also graces the front cover.) I also want to acknowledge the encouragement of those who helped to promote the book long before it was published. In particular Dave, Phil, Muth, Spit and Sam Raftl (who filmed the little sequences for the URLs), Jo, Sally, Dean Mobbs and all the other slam-dancing skinheads.

      Special thanks to Michael Landsberry for his brilliant photoshop work on the cover.

      Most of all, thanks to my gorgeous wife Karen who is my number one fan and does so much to create an atmosphere at home that enables me to work and be creative. This book would not exist without Kazzie being so wonderful.

      

      NEVER SAW IT COMING

      There is no greater feeling.

      Only a goalkeeper knows what it feels like to leave the planet - take off without thinking - stretch as far as the sinews will allow - just get the fingertips to a spherical piece of synthetic leather - deflect it far enough to scrape off the top of the crossbar - and then thump back to earth like a sack of shit.

      Exhilarating.

      And it doesn’t happen often. There has to be that supremely rare combination of a striker’s shot - hit exactly in the right place at the right velocity, which just happens to match the absolute extent of your agility.

      It happens maybe once every two or three years, so infrequently that I can remember every time. All the important saves of my life.

      I begin my story with the penalty I faced in the 4th Division State League grand final for Dartford Town - Dartford Town in Sydney, where I grew up.

      * * *

      We were one nil up with seconds to