TUESDAY, JUNE 11
I’m co-manager at this year’s Unicef Soccer Aid, the world’s biggest fundraising charity football match, created by Robbie Williams. Harry Redknapp and I will run the World XI, and Susanna Reid and Sam Allardyce will manage the England XI.
We set up a WhatsApp group for our team.
‘Presumably, I’ll be called Gaffer?’ I asked.
‘This is the greatest day of my life!’ I exclaimed to the TV cameras. It was also a fabulously successful day for Soccer Aid and Unicef, raising a record £6.8 million
‘Yes, Gaffer,’ messaged Harry.
‘Will you accept f***-face?’ snorted Niall Horan. ‘Sure, if you’ll accept sitting on the bench?’ I replied.
At Niall’s request, actor Michael Sheen – who later had to pull out – left a hilarious voice message in his Brian Clough voice (he played him in the movie The Damned United), saying: ‘If you can’t hit the target from there, Horan, you want bloody shooting.’ To which I responded: ‘Horan needs shooting, regardless of whether he can hit the target.’
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 12
Chelsea legend Didier Drogba, our star striker, appeared on Good Morning Britain.
‘Piers is The Special One,’ he announced, referencing his former boss Jose Mourinho’s self-imposed moniker. ‘In fact, he is the REAL Special One!’
Nothing is more guaranteed to enrage the entire football community.
Tonight, Robbie hosted a glitzy ball at London’s Science Museum.
‘GAFFER!’ said Usain Bolt on seeing me.
‘Drogba calls me Special One…’ I replied.
‘I’ll stick to Gaffer,’ said Bolt, firmly.
When I spied Line Of Duty star Martin Compston, I went into trash-talk mode.
‘Compston, we’re going to CRUSH you into tiny slithers of decaying flesh,’ I snarled.
Cantona threaded a brilliant pass to Kem Cetinay, who turned Terry inside out and smashed it into the top corner. It was a sensational goal, and the Love Islander went berserk, charging towards the dug-out like a man possessed. Equally ecstatic, I charged towards him, and we collided mid-pitch in a wildly OTT hug
‘Piers,’ he sighed, ‘I’m on your side.’
Robbie appeared, to perform a few songs.
‘What do you want?’ he asked.
‘ANGELS!’ everyone shouted back.
‘No, I’m not doing f***ing Angels,’ he screamed. But of course, he did, and I sang along riotously with Niall, Martin, Robbie Keane and John Terry. ‘You’ll need angels on Sunday,’ I told the latter.
‘Start praying,’ he chuckled.
THURSDAY, JUNE 13
Training day at Chelsea’s Stamford Bridge stadium. Sam and Susanna gave entirely positive pep talks.
Then, as Harry started ours, I interrupted him. ‘I’ve got this Harry…’ I announced, and proceeded to rip into the England XI as a ‘motley shower’, laud the World XI as a team of unbeatable warriors and square up to Terry when he gave me some verbals.
‘Come on for a few minutes and see how cocky you are then,’ he suggested.
‘As the IRA said to Margaret Thatcher, we only have to be lucky once,’ I replied.
Terry nodded. ‘True. If you nutmegged me, I’d never get over it.’
Later, SAS: Who Dares Wins star Ant Middleton, playing for England, crept up and doused me in water.
‘You’re dead, Middleton,’ I cried, before remembering he killed people for a living.
SUNDAY, JUNE 16
Match day. Trouble has flared with two of my stars appearing to disrespect their manager in social media posts: Bolt calling me ‘bad’ and ex-Arsenal legend Robert Pires branding me a ‘clown’.
I confronted them both.
‘Bad means tough in Jamaica,’ insisted Usain. ‘You are a great, TOUGH manager!’
‘Gaffer, I would like to apologise,’ begged Pires. ‘Clown in French is like “funny guy”, not “idiot”.’
‘ARE WE GOING TO WIN?’ I beseeched each player, until I got to Love Island ‘star’ Kem Cetinay, whom I’ve previously labelled a brain-dead zombie. ‘What day is it?’ I asked him, to general hilarity.
At the ground, Harry invited me to give the team talk. ‘I was recently in the Churchill War Rooms interviewing the President of the United States,’ I began, ‘and I spotted an appropriate quote for our battle tonight: “Sure I am this day, we are masters of our fate, that the task which has been set before us is not above our strength; that its pangs and toils are not beyond our endurance. As long as we have faith in our cause and an unconquerable will to win, salvation will not be denied us.”
‘Churchill also said that history is written by the victors,’ I added, ‘so go make history!’
I expected mockery but instead got raucous cheers. After 30 minutes we were losing 2-0.
‘Morgan OUT,’ tweeted my middle son Stanley. Then Bolt scored just before half-time to make it 2-1.
Cantona gave me a thumbs-up and smirked. Drogba poured a bottle of champagne over my head. Then they all gave me the bumps
In the second half we brought on the cavalry – Pires, Keane and Brazilian legend Roberto Carlos. But it was our last two subs, Cetinay and Eric Cantona, who turned the match around.
With just minutes left, Cantona threaded a brilliant pass to Cetinay, who turned Terry inside out and smashed it into the top corner. It was a sensational goal, and the Love Islander went berserk, charging towards the dug-out like a man possessed.
Equally ecstatic, I charged towards him, and we collided mid-pitch in a wildly OTT hug.
‘Not a brain-dead zombie now, am I?!’ he shrieked. ‘NO!’ I shouted back.
The match went to penalties and, joyously, we won 3-1. Even better, Mark Wright, who thinks he’s the amateur Messi, shot his wide.
Our team raced to salute hero goalkeeper Nicky ‘Westlife’ Byrne, then collected our medals and chanted ‘CHAMPIONE!’ as Bolt lifted the trophy and fireworks exploded.
‘What just happened?’ I shrieked.
‘We won,’ cried Usain, as we adopted his famous lightning Bolt pose, ‘it’s what we do!’
Cantona gave me a thumbs-up and smirked. Drogba poured a bottle of champagne over my head. Then they all gave me the bumps.
‘This is the greatest day of my life!’ I exclaimed to the TV cameras. It was also a fabulously successful day for Soccer Aid and Unicef, raising a record £6.8 million.
MONDAY, JUNE 17
Mark Wright appeared on GMB at 6am, still up from the after-party where he’d been drowning his sorrows.
‘You played an absolute blinder,’ consoled Susanna.
‘You did, mate,’ I agreed, ‘because only a blind man would have missed the goal by that much.’
‘GOODBYE!’ said Wright, hanging up.
The perfect end to a perfect week.