Beesotted contributor Nemone Sariman shares her thoughts on the departure of Mark Flekken as well as making a chilling confession about her father.
My dad was a Queens Park Rangers fan. Now, please hear me out.
When I was little, he never took me to a single game which, with hindsight, saved me some pain, whether or not I realised it at the time. However, he did take the time to explain transfers to ten-year-old me, at a time when I had this romantic idea that footballers loved one club so much that they’d stay there forever.
“But what if someone wants to go, and the club don’t let him?”
“They have to let him go eventually. He’s not going to play well if he’s unhappy, is he?”
Many years later, now that I have broken free from the almost-shackles of the blue and white hoops, part of me still yearns for a world where we keep the same players forever. However, grown-up me knows that life isn’t like that, and that Brentford’s superpower is expert artistry of rough diamonds who need shaping and polishing. Rarely is anyone the full package immediately upon arrival, but that’s the point.
When Bryan Mbeumo joined us in 2019, we watched him transform from a shy young man to the goal-getting powerhouse that we know and love, and I was even lucky enough to meet him, briefly, a couple of times. I knew that, one day, Bryan would fly the nest. Well, his preferred choice of Manchester United as a new home is something of a surprise, but the eventual departure from Brentford is something that we all saw coming.
At the time of writing this, it’s still unconfirmed, but my Manchester United-supporting friends – including the apologetic one who justifies herself by saying, “It’s not my fault! I had no choice! I was born in the same town as Ole Gunnar Solskjær, so every kid had to become a Man Utd fan! It was PRACTICALLY THE LAW!” – are poised, gleefully, like hungry vultures.
At the last home game of the season, when Peter Gilham announced Bryan’s name, the lady in the seat behind me sighed, resignedly, “Probably for the last time”. And, when we all applauded Bryan on, and off, at Molineux, there was something of a swansong about it. I was sad, but I knew that I’d be ok. Recalling how stressed I was about what we’d do without Scott Hogan (younger fans: ask your older siblings), whilst I don’t want Bryan to go, I now know that the club always has A Plan.
Mark Flekken, on the other hand … oof. No final curtain call, no rumour mill chugging away, little warning whatsoever. Just “Let’s go again at the Gtech next week” (from Mark’s social media, after the penultimate game of the season), then “Final stages of talks with Bayer Leverkusen”, quicker than I could catch my breath.
But … but … I didn’t even think he was … how come nobody said … sorry, WHAT?
The only basis for comparison is taking a boyfriend for granted, then, when he dumps you without warning, kicking yourself for not making more of an effort to be nice.
Why, Mark? Was it something we said/did?
More importantly, what am I going to do about my Fantasy Football team? I was so looking forward to calling it “Defend It Like Flekken”. (Well, I guess I still could, but it would be weird.)
During Mark’s first pre-season with us – when we travelled halfway across the world to play erm, UK teams, including our nearest neighbours whom we don’t even like – we were quite a hard-to-please crowd. Well, I say “we” but it wasn’t me; I smugly reserved judgement, with my own wise words ringing in my ears (see my previous comment about rough diamonds), but others didn’t hold back.
Diamonds are, apparently, formed under high heat and intense pressure, and Mark certainly experienced both of the above, mainly from Brentford fans moaning and griping. But, after skilled craftsmanship from our club, he emerged sparkling, as was proven many times including the following this season:
- West Ham away: three saves, a clean sheet and three extra points in Fantasy Football. (Unfortunately that was the week that I forgot to rearrange my team, and I left him on the bench.)
- Nottingham Forest away: an assist (the nearest thing to a goalkeeper scoring a goal) AND a clean sheet.
- Ipswich away: Another clean sheet, and a last-minute save that sealed the three points for us.
The appreciation of Mark’s worth even extended to the unforgiving, lawless wasteland that is Instagram, with Bees fans and neutrals alike heaping praise upon him. My favourite comment was, “Your keeper’s class, mind”: direct, accurate and exactly what the rest of the world was thinking. And I bet you read the comment in a Geordie accent, didn’t you? Go on, admit it, pet.
I take some comfort from the fact that the club really does always have A Plan, and that we wouldn’t let Mark go without having someone else to step into his shoes/gloves.
Enter Caoimhín Kelleher from stage right. I don’t know much about him, but I am heartened to see how highly regarded he appears to be, with positive comments streaming in online, mainly from fans of his old club. I can’t wait to see him in a Brentford shirt.
Good luck to Mark and, most likely, Bryan, in their new ventures. Good luck to Caoimhín, too. May they be brilliant, enduring and flawless, just like their carbon counterparts.
And, whilst “Defend It Like Flekken” may have breathed its last before even really breathing its first, perhaps I will gain more than mere mid-table mediocrity in Fantasy Football next season with my new team name of “God Save The Caoimhín”. (Non-Irish people: ask your Irish friends.)
Nemone Sariman
