Alpha Romeo Metaphor II

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View attachment 290576Monday, 31 August 2015 9am-ish

Enzo came bounding out of his booth as I rolled up.

"I saw you on the television last night," he said. "Mother of Mary you were on fire!"

"You liked that?" I asked.

"Oh, my Little Devil," he said. "Was that all calculated? Are you playing everyone?"

"Well, I was honestly quite furious," I replied. "So the anger was genuine. I may have had an ulterior motive or two."

"I knew it," Enzo exclaimed. "I told my boys you were doing it to take the pressure off the players and to send a message to those accursed refs."

"You know me all too well, Enzo," I replied.

"Did you know you're an internet sensation?" Enzo said. "Everyone is watching that video of you ranting. Everywhere across Europe according to my boys."

"I am?" I said. "You don't say. I'll have to check that out. Light a few extra candles for us, we're going to need them."

"Don't you worry, I have that taken care of," Enzo said. "Not only have I been praying to Saint Caterina, I've enlisted St. Jude's help."

"Oh? Why him?"

"St. Jude is good for penalty kicks because his is the patron saint of lost causes," Enzo replied. "And if any cause is a lost one, it's getting the refs to start calling the penalty kicks the right way. Bless you, my Little Devil and have a nice day."
 
Spent a long time reading this from the shadows, but it really has been a fantastic read! Very unique. :)
 
I just love the detail and drama in this story. You have a way of making the story spring to life.
 
This story is the best I have ever seen. Anywhere, not just in FM. You, should be winning an Author prize or something like that for this!
 
View attachment 290213Tuesday, 1 September 2015 9:32AM

As I sat at my desk reviewing the list of teens I'd sent out on loan, there was a knock at my door. My Assistant Manager Graziano Vinti walked in followed by Michele Pazienza and Erik Friberg. What were they here to complain about this time? And why was the only interactions I had with Mr. Friberg was when he'd anointed himself as Chief Complainer?

"The boys want to talk to you about how you are treating Franco Zuculini," Graziano said.

"Please sit down," I said motioning to the couches. "Let's talk this out and nip any problem in the bud."

"You're completely out of order not letting Franco leave," Paz began. "It's wrong to stand in the way of his dream move. This isn't going over well with the rest of the squad."

"Okay," I said. "But which dream move? He told me Atalanta wants him and the papers say Empoli want him."

"Uh, I think he said Atalanta," Paz replied.

"Okay then, Atalanta," I said. "Graziano, how many offers have we had from Atalanta this summer for Zuke?"

"Uh, that'd be zero, boss," my Assistant replied.

"And how many offers in total have we received for Zuke?"

"That'd be zero, boss."

"So I'm confused about what dream move I'm blocking," I said. "I put him on the market because he asked but that's as far as it's gone."

"But you've been talking about how important he is and how you'd rather not sell him," Friberg chimed in. "In the papers."

"Well, I'm not about to cave in to an individual's demand," I replied. "Should I sell him for free? Five euros? What sort of message would that send out. I've improved the squad and Franco is a key player for us. You can accuse me of a lot of things but weak management isn't one of them."

"You're right and we shouldn't have questioned you," Friberg said. "It's good to know that you care enough to make unpopular decisions when needed."

"Well, as you know, my door is always open," I said. "Thanks for coming to talk to me."

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This story is the best I have ever seen. Anywhere, not just in FM. You, should be winning an Author prize or something like that for this!

Now you have me blushing, but thank you very much regardless.
 
View attachment 288982We didn't have all that many players leaving on international duty so we played two friendlies. The first was against local side Castanaso Van Goof. Seriously, I just love the name. Castanaso is a suburb of Bologna ... more or less.

I was unsatisfied with our play. 3-0 over a boisterous, determined and fun-loving neighbors doesn't cut it. They had a great time and, unlike me, totally satisfied with their visit.

Arsenal is an entirely different bag of hammers altogether. We faced their B-team which is still a pretty impressive squad although a few veterans who'd retired from international football like Per Mertsacker made the trip as well as Mikel Arteta who has never really featured for Spain.

Chuba Akpom destroyed us with his speed and finishing. But Shawn Parker snatched a goal back to make it 3-1. Then Dedryck Boyata stayed up after a corner and Antonio Calabrese fed him a sweet cross which he headed home to cut the lead to one.

The Gooners stopped ****ing around and won a late penalty which Arteta converted.

The bottom line is I saw how we coped with the English giants and we'll need to tighten up our defense and score from corners and free kicks against any top side.

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View attachment 288976Monday, 7 September 2015 10:08AM

"Boss, we've got to talk," Franco Zuculini said as he strode into my office followed by his agent.

I motioned for them to sit on a couch. They declined. I knew that this wasn't going to go well. Their body language screamed they wanted a confrontation.

Fine.

"I'm really not happy that you refused to sell me," he said. "I've got no problem running out my contract and leaving on a Bosman next summer."

"Wait, I refused to sell you?" I asked in Spanish. "We all know how transfers work. The buying club sends a limo or jet for you. Since it was supposed to Atalanta and Empoli interested in you it was likely a limo. Did you have a nice ride to Bergamo or Empoli while sipping their wine? Have a nice dinner with their Director of Football? Was the manager there? Did they promise you the world?"

Franco and Juan Manuel Alvarez looked a little confused.

"Because they never contacted me," I continued. "I didn't put a minimum bid requirement when I put you on the transfer list, yet nobody made an offer. So, I've not actually stood in your way of your supposed dream move."

"That isn't what we've been hearing in the media," Alvarez said.

"Yeah, well I am not an idiot and I'm not selling you for a bag of pasta," I replied. "I'm not your agent so I'm not finding you a club either."

"I don't believe you," Franco said.

"Is that so," I said. "We've worked together for one year now. If you have the impression that I'm not honest, you're a ****ing idiot. You've seen how I deal with problems. Matuzalem, adios. Friberg and Mathias Abero, gone."

"That would be excellent," Alvarez said.

I just stared at him.

"You really think I'd agree to release him after the bull**** you've pulled?"

"You're completely out of line," Alvarez sputtered.

"Either apologize for ****ing with my team's chemistry or you can rot in the reserves for the season," I replied. "Your move."

"You have no idea how big of a mistake you are making," Franco spit out at me as Alvarez pulled him out of my office. "I guarantee this will come back to haunt you."

Enjoy training with the U20s.
 
if you offer him to clubs and he doesn't get any offers you can ask him to find a new team on his own. useualy when they don't get any offers they calm down for me.
 
if you offer him to clubs and he doesn't get any offers you can ask him to find a new team on his own. useualy when they don't get any offers they calm down for me.
Interesting! I didn't know that, thanks. Of course, for the future I want to have established a reputation as a mgr who treats players who demand dream moves poorly.
 
View attachment 288682Tuesday, 8 September 2015 really late

I heard the cab stop, car doors open, slam, trunk open and slam shut. Then I heard footsteps walking to the door. Gwen flung the door open like she always does, banging it against the wall. I didn't get up. I was too drunk.

"Enrico?"

"Oar here," I slurred from the library where we have the TV. I'd watched several of the international friendlies and highlights from nearly all of them as I'd gotten drunk. Now I was just aimlessly channel surfing.

"Why you big sexy puddle of drunk **** Italian-American liquor pig," she said. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Nu'hin," I slurred staring blearily at her knee caps which were peeking out from under her dress. "I'm fine, good. Did I air tell you that yoof got rilly fuggin sexy kneecabs?"

"Oh, Enrico," she said pushing aside several empty beer cans so she could crouch down next to me. "You're so silly. And a **** liar when you're ******, my dear. Something went wrong or is bothering you. You are entirely predictable, my love."

"Fuggin' mutiny on the muthafuggin' good shib Bologna," I slurred. "Thaz wuz fuggin wrong. Fuggin' Franco an his ajin are fuggin azholes an I sen Franco to the muthafuggin resherves. Fuggin azhole ajin of his. Whah-the-fugiz his name. Can member. Fugg id. Duzn madder."

View attachment 288626"My dear, what is that on the front of you shirt?" she asked with a giggle. "The orange. Yes. That."

"Thaz muthafuggin cheedos."

"Cheetos?"

"Ya. I fuggin' ordered some from the US of muthafuggin A a while ago. They arrife when yoor in Lonon."

"Cheesy poofs?"

"The same," I replied. "I be'r gidup. I think I godda pee."

"You are a sight," she said. "Yes. Let's get you cleaned up and get some water in you before you pass out."

"I woan haf no fuggin hangover," I slurred. "I'll be fine."

It took a while but she got me to my feet.

"Do I need to hire a sitter for you next I leave you silly, silly man?" she said. "Let's get you in bed before you do something messy or ridiculous."

"You're rilly fuggin funny when I'm drunk, too, you know thad?"

And that's pretty much all I remember of the evening.
 
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Serie A: Sassuolo v. Bologna

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The Mapei Stadium - Citta del Tricolore is about two-thirds full and there is a large Rossoblu contingent behind one goal. Maybe as many as 5,000. Since Sassuolo is just inside an hour drive away (it's just SW of Modena), this is a Derby Dell'Emilia. Rossoblus haven't been particularly happy that Neroverdis have been in the Serie A while we've had a season in Serie B. So here's our opportunity to not only gain points over a potential relegation-threatened club but gain local bragging rights.

Shawn Parker is on the bench and Andrea Russotto makes his debut but not as my right winger. He'll play as the lone forward. Sadly, Shawn's good preseason form has evaporated. I'll have some work to do but I hope that Shawn will eventually start to deliver goals. Simone Pasa slots into the defensive midfield role and I've decided to play an aggressive 4231 formation with Federico Casarini in the hole behind the striker.

"I expect you to win today," I told my players. "Local derbies like this are huge for our fans. Water cooler bragging rights and all that. Plus I want to make a statement today about us. We deserve to be in Serie A. This is a big club that belongs in Italy's top league. Let's go out and show everyone what we're about."

View attachment 288566 The match didn't start well. We were disorganized and Sassuolo pinned us back in our own end. In the 6th minute, Neroverdi midfielder Josip Radosevic was allowed far too much time on the ball near the top of the box. He slipped a pass in to their Ghanian midfielder Raman Chibsah. Chibsah had enough time to turn and shoot. He hit the crossbar just inside Dejan Stojanovic's left post. The ball careened straight downward then bounced high. Striker Ezequiel Ponce and Dedryk Boyata launched themselves at the ball as it came down. The ball squirted across the face of the goal and directly into the path of Leonardo.

Easy tap in for the Brazilian. The Neroverdi lit some green smoke bombs in celebration.

1-0

"TIGHTEN UP!" I screamed as my players walked back upfield to restart the match. "TIGHTEN UP! DON'T GIVE THEM SO MUCH TIME ON THE BALL. PRESSURE THEM!"

We passed the ball around the midfield for a while after the resyart then eventually near the opposition penalty box. Casarini had the ball about 30 meters out and had time to look around. He sprayed a pass out to the left wing where Captain Archimede Morleo had sprinted forward. Morleo zipped a pass into Gaël Kakuta in the penalty box. Two defenders were on him in a flash. He spun his defender and smashed a shot goalward from an acute angle. The keeper should have easily blocked it but Luigi Sepe had dropped to spread himself as wide as possible and the shot was high. It nicked the crossbar and bulged the side netting!

1-1

That hurt. Their goalkeeper's confidence, that is.

We immediately stole the ball back and advanced into the Neroverdi half. Russotto raced forward then spun and played a pass back to Casarini. Casarini fed a pass across the middle of the park to Loris Damonte. Loris strode forward with the ball then gave it to Kakuta. Gaël paused a moment to evaluate his options and also to tease their right fullback. Then he charged forward. No, it was a feint. He slid a pass across the top of the box and a bit backwards into the pass of Federico Casarini.

Casa unleashed a tomahawk missile right at Sepe from 30 meters. But it was a no spin shot that sliced away from Sepe and nearly ripped the netting off! Poor Sepe just flailed at it.

1-2

Holy ****! Three games, three goals. Casarini is burning up! He and the rest of his teammates ran over to the Rossoblus right behind to celebrate.

As the game restarted, the Rossoblus switched from serenading Casa to a song about the Sassuolo keeper Sepe, his mother and how he shouldn't rub so much olive oil on his hands. I'm only going to paraphrase; it was cruel and disgusting but the young keeper was not having a good match. The Rossoblus were revelling in his failure.

You know how you train for set pieces and corners? How you work hard on the training ground and then set pieces and corners never never ever never go the way you want on the pitch the next day? Well ... in the 21st minute, we actually pulled one off!

Russotto stood in front of the keeper. The towering twins Bernardo and Loris Damonte were positioning themselves for near post runs. Casa was lurking outside the area, Boyata and Kakuta were ready to make back post runs. As everyone crashed the net, Simone Pasa stood still at the penalty spot. Lepiller lasered a pass to him and Simone struck his side foot volley cleanly and the keeper had no chance!

1-3

We were cruising!

As we approached halftime, I yelled at everyone to maintain their concentration. Of course, we didn't.

In the 42nd minute, Ponce dribbled the ball over the half line down our right side. He flicked a pass inside to Chibsah who was wide open jogging down the middle of the pitch. As Damonte and Pasa scrambled over to shut him down, he spotted Leonardo out on the right. Morleo had taken a few extra steps inside and forgotten about the Brazilian.

At this point, I realized that my hand was over my face and I was peeking through my fingers. Chibsah chipped the ball out to Leonardo who was in alone on goal.

Except that Morleo came flying in with a goal-saving tackle. A roar of jubilation erupted from the bench behind me and from behind the Sassuolo goal as the ball rolled over the end line. That was an AMAZING tackle.

View attachment 288553"Great first half, great first half," I enthused. "We were very well organized and you all did exactly what I asked of you. We need more of the same for the second half. I would urge you to avoid any more situations in which Morleo needs to save our ***** with a brilliant, highlight reel tackle. Okay? Other than that let's stay focused and keep the pressure high."

Of course, they didn't take my words to heart. Leonardo raced down the flank straight from the restart, beat Morleo and curled a beautiful cross that Ponce met with a glancing header.

It thankfully floated just wide.

Another day and this match might've been tied up. But it wasn't and we played safe for the rest of the match. They only managed a few long-range shots until the 79th minute when Dejan tipped a Francesco Magnanelli shot onto the post. Boyata cleared.

A beautiful day out in the Italian sunshine. Our first victory! Winning sure does take the edge off all the drama of the preceding week.

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View attachment 288276"Oh what a difference a derby victory makes," Gwen said after we'd ordered dinner.

"You've got that right," I replied. "I'm really tired of talking about Franco and I was getting worried the squad would be distracted and wouldn't play well. One thing's for sure; there is a place open that Franco would have automatically filled."

"You were such a wreck on Tuesday and Wednesday," she observed.

I just nodded.

"How's London?" I asked. "I never asked."

"London is the same," she replied. "Same insanity revolving around the shoot as usual. It's comical, really. I guess I'm used to it now. It's so odd returning. You know ... this gigantic monstrosity of a city ... I never really looked at it as a visitor before. We had a three hour shoot at the Tower of London. That's all they would give us. You know, I've never toured it -- gone there as a tourist. It's funny how you never go to those types of place in the city in which you live."

I grunted.

"Don't you have an international break coming up soon?" she asked.

"Um, yes," I replied. "Nearly half of October. We play Lazio at Renato Dell'Arra on the third of October and don't play again until the eighteenth..."

"Let's go somewhere," she interjected.

"Sure, where?"

"Hmmm ... um ... Switzerland?"

"Okay by me," I replied as our salads arrived.
 
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