Being Bastian... (A Bayern Munich Story)

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mashedPotatoes said:
Anywho,nice work so far mate,enjoying it :)
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Thanks very much -- appreciated :)

---------- Post added at 03:00 PM ---------- Previous post was yesterday at 10:01 PM ----------

Monday, July 13th 2009 -- 1.30am.

The plane touched down in the early hours of the morning. Tiredness was rife amongst the camp -- the short coach trip to the hotel seemed to last for hours. Finally, at 2.45am, we arrived at check-in and made our way to our rooms. I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.

***​

We gathered for breakfast at 10.30am -- I had allowed everyone a lie-in to recuperate. An hour later, we re-boarded the coach and headed off to a nearby sports centre.

Training was good -- the players surprisingly sharp.
“Put them into a game,” I said to Andries once all the harder work had been done.
“Sure. Any preferences?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied, “Set one team to play 4-4-2 and the other as 4-5-1 with wingers high up the field. It’s more defensive than yesterday’s match, but it could work well away from home in the league.”
“Good idea,” Andries answered with a smile, “Now’s the best time to experiment. We don’t want to be caught short when the real competitions begin.”

Ten minutes passed and, with the game in full flow, my mobile-phone began ringing -- it was Franz.
“Bastian,” he began, “I heard about the game yesterday. Good result.”
“Yes, it was ok,” I replied, “Though our performance dropped in the second-half.”
“Ah, that’s to be expected. Especially in a friendly,” he chuckled, “Anyway, I rang you for other reasons.”
“Yes,” I answered with an enquiring tone.
“Firstly, Uli and Karl have agreed to look into the possibility of joining us with a feeder club -- one we can send players out on loan too. We have some great youngsters and I feel it would be beneficial to get them out on loan -- especially at a club we are tied too,” he continued.
“Great idea,” I answered. Some of the youngsters were ready for first-team football -- not ready for Bayern, but ready for elsewhere.
“The draw for the first round of the DFB-Pokal cup was made this morning too. We’ve been paired away to FC Ingolstadt. The match will take place on the 31st of July,” he added, “I’ve also spoken with Christian this morning and he informed that Hamit has agreed a deal with Liverpool. It seems a good arrangement for everyone involved. Uli and Karl have informed me that the money will be transferred to the club’s transfer kitty immediately.”
“That’s good,” I replied, “I’ll have a talk with Christian when I’ve assessed the squad.”
“Yes…” he agreed, though I sensed he had more breaking news for me, and he did, “There’s been a few developments whilst the team has been away.”
“Really?” I replied.
“Manchester United have been in contact with us,” he informed me -- his voice ominous, “They‘ve enquired about the availability of Franck.”
My jaw dropped, “Has a bid been accepted?”
“Not yet,” he replied, “We’ve quoted them £80,000,000. Hopefully, this will put them off.”
“I hope so,” I sighed with relief. We can’t lose our star player!
“You should tell Franck about the interest,” he advised, “We don’t want him finding out from other sources.”
I agreed, but I would wait until this evening before doing so.

***​

I received a text message from Christian -- he had tried to call me, but I’d been busy talking with Anita.

“United have withdrawn their interest,” it read.

I sighed with huge relief. Still, I had to inform Franck -- it’s important to be open in order to keep a player’s trust. “Best get it over with,” I thought, as I sent a message to his mobile asking him to meet me in the lobby for a chat.

***​
 
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In the bar...

In the bar…

“Franck,” I called out, extending my hand in greeting, “Sit down. I have something to tell you.”
“You can not treat me like this!” he stormed, refusing my hand, but accepting the drink I had on offer, “United is a great club, the Premier League is one of the best. I want to go there.”

Ah, I smell an agent’s interference.

“I’ve just had a call. £80 million?” he fumed, “That’s ridiculous! I should not be kept against my will. I am not a slave!”

“A slave?” I thought, amused at his misuse (or overplaying) of the word.

“You are not a slave Franck,” I replied, “In fact, you couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re on a lucrative contract with one of the most famous football clubs in the world. You’re treated like a king and in return… all you have to do is kick a ball around a park for a few hours a week.”
“What about you? Who are you? A two-bit youth coach? I dread to think what sordid things you may have done to get this job,” he retorted, throwing his drink over me; smashing his glass on the floor; before storming back to his room.

I was shocked (and soaked) and quite unsure of what to do next. I’d heard of the famous French temperament, but never experienced it first hand before. I’m not happy, but I’ll sleep on it. In the morning, I’ll converse with Andries before deciding on my next move. There’s no need to make rash decisions.

“Sorry,” I apologised to the waitress (handing her double the initial tip I had planned) as she set about clearing up the smashed glass, “It wont happen again.”
“Don’t worry sir,” she answered, smiling with gratitude upon accepting my peace offering, “We get all sorts in here.”
“I bet you do,” I chuckled, before heading to my room.

***​

“One thing’s for sure,” I mused as I lay in bed, “The United manager has an awful cheek to talk openly about other teams unsettling players.”

***​

To anyone who may be following this story -- I must apologise for the lack of regular updates of late. Unfortunately, a friend of mine is in hospital and I haven't had the time to update :)​

***​
 
Sell Ribery, little ****** for that :O! haha! Hope your friend is ok, but looking forward to your next post :)
 
The next morning...

The next morning…

I called Andries to my room half-an-hour before the squad and staff were due to meet for breakfast and informed him of the previous night’s shenanigans.

“We don’t stand for this behaviour at Bayern,” Andries reacted angrily, slamming his fists on the coffee-table, “You must fine him and, perhaps, consider his role in the team.”

“His role?” I asked, unsure of how he expected me to answer, “He is the team’s star player. He’s worth a fortune.”

“Yes, but you are the manager. It is your team, until the powers that be decide otherwise,” he added, “If you want to be part of the big-time, you must make big decisions.”

“I’ll talk to him again,” I said. In truth, despite Franck’s lack of respect towards me, I hoped I could persuade him to stay. Manchester United are a big club, perhaps he’s mad that we didn’t inform earlier? We shall see in good time, I mused.

“Okay,” Andries agreed, “But be warned, this club has fallen foul of big-headed players before. Players who believe they are greater than the club itself. It won’t happen again. Not in a million years. If Franz were to find out… he would throw Franck out on his ear.”

“Then we won’t tell him,” I said, “Not yet anyway. Let me speak to Franck and hear his thoughts on the matter.”

“That’s fine by me,” my assistant answered, “But don’t let any player make a fool of you. You only get one chance at a club this big. Don’t waste yours.”

I must admit his last few words rang loud in my head and stuck in my mind. I love this club, for sure. I want to be here for years to come. I want to see pictures of ‘Bastian Badstuber’ hanging in the very hall of fame I’d admired only the other day. Perhaps I’ll need to toughen up? Perhaps I’ll have to do it sooner rather than later?

“I’ll talk with him soon,” I added, “After this morning's training session.”



Disgruntled star, Franck Ribéry.​

***​
 
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toddzy said:
Sell Ribery, little ****** for that :O! haha! Hope your friend is ok, but looking forward to your next post :)
Click to expand...

Thanks toddzy, I've been following your AC story -- looking good :)
 
14th July 2009...

14th July 2009.

Breakfast came and went and Franck never uttered a word. I thought it best to leave him to his own devices -- there’s no point making a scene in front of the entire squad.

We trained at 10.30am through 11.30am -- a light session, we have a game this afternoon. All went well and no players reported any injuries.

“Good effort lads,” I praised as they left the training pitch, “Go and have a shower and then pack for the trip to the stadium.”

I pulled Franck to one side and talked about his behaviour last night. He is still mad at our 'ludicrous valuation’ of him, but he apologised for his outburst and promised to give his all for the team in the upcoming matches.

“Sorted,” I thought to myself -- though I am not naïve and fully expect that this is not the end of the matter.

*​
1pm.

We took our seats on the coach and settled in for the journey ahead -- the trip to the stadium should take no more than an hour, if the afternoon traffic is on our side.

10 minutes in, I felt a buzzing sensation in my pocket, “Hello,” I said, answering my phone.
“Hello Bastian?” an unfamiliar voice replied, looking for verification.
“Yes,”
“Hello, it’s Martin. Martin Demichelis.”

I was happy to hear from him. It can be difficult to get hold of players when they’re away from the club on other business or in specialist care. He is a good player, a strong centre-back, but, unfortunately, severe injury has kept him out of our pre-season programme. Torn ankle ligaments are not something I would wish on my worst enemies, never mind one of the team’s star players.

“How are things in Argentina?” I asked.
“Good,” he replied, “My physiotherapy is going well. I should be back in match action in three months or less if all goes to plan.”
“That’s brilliant news,” I answered.

Our conversation continued for another 5 minutes or so -- he seems very keen to link up with the squad again and his eagerness for success is heart-warming. My first impressions are that he is a fine professional. I hope -- when we meet in person -- he proves me right.


Martin Demichelis -- recovering well.​

*​

2pm.

We arrived at the stadium (Regenboogstadion, Geverbeek) on time and set about our duties. Kick-off is not for another two and half hours, but it’s best to arrive early and allow the players time to mingle with the collected fans. After all, this is a tour as much as a friendly and it’s in the club’s interests to appear warm and receptive to supporters.

*​

3.30pm.

The lads went out onto the pitch to prepare for the game. I had selected my team and informed the players. Franck will only play if needed -- on the advice of my assistant.

Maximillian Riedmüller, Philip Lahm, Danijel Pranjic, Christian Lell, Daniel Van Buyten, Anatoliy Tymoschuk, Holger Badstuber, Bastian Schweinsteiger, Thomas Müller, Miroslav Klose, Ivica Olic.

Substitutes -- Hans-Jörg ****, Andreas Görlitz, Mark Van Bommel, Christian Saba, Franck Ribéry, Arjen Robben.

*​

4.30pm to 6.30pm.

Zulte Waregem 1 Bayern Munich 4.

The game kicked-off to a chorus of cheers from the 7,789 spectators present. It was a good game -- fast paced and played in fine spirit. Philip Lahm caught my eye -- he is confident on the ball, speedy up the line and his communication skills are excellent. I think we may have found our Captain for the coming season.

We enjoyed near total domination -- in truth, Zulte were a distinctly average team, but this is pre-season and fitness is the main aim of our endeavours. Christian Lell played particularly well and managed to score a spectacular hat-trick -- no mean feat considering he played out the entire game at full-back!

Christian had given us the lead with a towering header from close close range after 33 minutes. Jeremy Taravel got a toe to a low cross to bring the scores level going into the break.

During the break I made a substitution and brought on Arjen Robben for Miroslav Klose. It would be the only change on our part during the match.

"We have the lions share of possession and chances are falling left, right and centre," I told them, "Now we must take them. Get some goals in this half and put this game to bed."

The players responded well and began the second-half in fine fettle. We kept possession and created many more chances -- only this time we managed to put them away. Schweinsteiger finished with aplomb on 51 minutes -- his well placed shot giving the hosts goalkeeper no chance, before Christian added his second with another close range header (65) and, 15 minutes later, completed his hat-trick in the same manner.


Christian Lell celebrates his third goal.​

*​

“Great performance,” I applauded, as the players entered the changing room, “Absolutely brilliant. I‘ll see you all in the club bar.”

*​

We enjoyed a quick drink (or two) with the players and staff of Zulte and thanked them for their fine hospitality.

“C’mon then,” I said, gathering the players together, “Back to the hotel to pack our belongings. We’ve got to move out to Antwerp tonight.”

The players sighed -- I felt the same -- the travelling involved in these pre-season tours can be draining.

***​
 
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wow!
i think it will be hard to keep following this with the amount of time i get to go online
but quality writing mate. i love how your really imagining its real because lets face it we platy
FM because we have all dreamt about being a professional footballer/manager
 
toddzy said:
Keep this up mate, really great writing :)
Click to expand...

kashmoney99 said:
wow!
i think it will be hard to keep following this with the amount of time i get to go online
but quality writing mate. i love how your really imagining its real because lets face it we platy
FM because we have all dreamt about being a professional footballer/manager
Click to expand...

Thanks for your comments :) Honestly, they are very, very much appreciated.
 
“You are not a slave Franck,” I replied, “In fact, you couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re on a lucrative contract with one of the most famous football clubs in the world. You’re treated like a king and in return… all you have to do is kick a ball around a park for a few hours a week.”
“What about you? Who are you? A two-bit youth coach? I dread to think what sordid things you may have done to get this job,” he retorted, throwing his drink over me; smashing his glass on the floor; before storming back to his room.

That passage in paticular stood out to me, great job :D!

Looking forward to reading more
 
LewLufc said:
That passage in paticular stood out to me, great job :D!

Looking forward to reading more
Click to expand...


Thanks :) I wasn't sure if people would read such a long story about FM. The comments people have left make it easier to write though :) I've played through to the first league match now, so hopefully I can post more updates soon.
 
15th July 2009...

Early morning -- 15th July 2009.

It was late, extremely late, when we arrived at our next hotel. At least we’ll get to spend a few days in Antwerp -- the diamond capital of the world.

“Well done today lads,” I said, fighting against a yawn, “See you in the morning. 10am for breakfast.”

The players grumbled tired goodnights as they slowly negotiated the check-in queue (an unfortunate by-product of travelling en masse) and retired to their rooms.

*​

15th July 2009.

The following day passed like a gentle summers breeze. Training was good and I was content with the atmosphere within the camp. Franck appears to be in better spirits too -- I’m glad we cleared the air.

“Okay,” I began as the players regrouped back at the hotel, “You’ve got the rest of the day off. Go and explore the town; relax; or do whatever you want. We’ll meet again at 9am tomorrow.”

They perked up in an instant -- I have no doubts that fun is on their agendas.

“Just don’t bring any unwanted attention upon yourselves or the club,” Andries warned them.



Antwerp, by day.​


*​

I spent the afternoon catching up on business and talking with Anita on the phone. She misses me -- I miss her -- but it’s to be expected -- we’re very close.

Coaching the youth team doesn’t require as much travelling and time as the senior side. Since taking the reigns of the seniors, I find myself constantly on the phone; filling in paper work; training; and watching matches, amongst other cases of blah, blah, and even more blah…

Anita understands, but I hope it doesn’t affect our relationship too much.

I hung up, but my mobile wasn’t finished for the day, “Hello,” I said, answering it’s beck and call.

“Bastian, it’s Christian. How’s things?”
“Fine,” I answered, “The tour’s going well. How about yourself?”
“Ah, I‘m good,” he replied, “Listen, I’ve been making a few inquiries since you’ve been away.”
“Good news?”
“Not really. Let’s just say that clubs are using the recession to keep hold of players,” he laughed, “Bremen quoted us £32 million for Ozil… £32 million!”
“Woah, that’s steep,” I answered, but, in the back of my mind, I knew we couldn’t really complain. After all, we were doing the same with Franck.
“Steep? You’re not kidding. I doubt if anyone has that kind of money to throw on one player with the current financial situation,” he paused for a moment, “Well, everyone bar the two Spanish clubs and that Arabian team in England.”
“You mean Manchester City?”
“Yes, that’s the one,” he sighed, before chuckling, “Maybe we should try and sell them a card-board cut-out of Schweinsteiger for £25 million? They seem to be buying everything else on offer.”
“That’s cruel,” I laughed.
“Ah, I’m only joking,” he replied, “Perhaps a little jealous of their money too, if I’m honest. Anyway, what do think of the current squad? Now you’ve had a few weeks with them?”
“To be honest,” I said, taking a breath, “I think we’re okay. You’ve done a good job bringing this squad together.”
“Thank you,” he replied, “But there must be weaknesses, Bastian. There’s always weaknesses.”
“I suppose you’re right,” I laughed, “But we have a few quality youngsters too. I think two or three of them might be ready to make the step up to the first team.”
“Yes, I suppose,” he mused, “You did a good job developing some of those lads. I’ll continue scouting as normal. Let me know if you change your mind.”

*​

Evening.

I enjoyed a nice (if lonesome) meal in a local public house and caught wind of a conversation taking place in near proximity…

Apparently, the Italian club Napoli were also in town and they were playing a local side tonight, “Might as well go and take a look,” I mused. After all, I had little else to do.

I took my seat in the stadium -- at a guess, I’d say it held less than 7,000 and, even then, there were still a few empty seats dotted about the place as the referee blew for kick-off.

The game itself wasn’t that great. In fact, if any game were ever to be used as an advertisement for a meaningless friendly, it could well be this one. But, amidst the lethargic legs and rusty passes, one player stuck out. A young, strange looking lad.

His first touch is sublime; his passing as accurate as I’ve seen and he’s not afraid to take a punt a goal. I’ve been watching this game for less than an hour, but I already know I’m watching a future star.

“Who is that guy in the Napoli midfield?” I asked the person sat next to me, “The one with the funny hair-do?”
“You mean Hamsik?” he answered, “The Slovakian lad with the buck teeth?”
“Yes,” I nodded in reply.
“He’s a great player,” he added, “I’d be surprised if Napoli hold onto him for much longer.”
“Indeed,” I replied.

I left my seat and went in search of a programme seller -- I needed to find out a little more about this ‘Hamsik’ lad.

“Thanks,” I said with an eager smile upon purchasing a match programme. I flicked through the pages in search of his bio, “No, no, no,” I mumbled as each page flip revealed anyone but the lad I searched for, “Ah, there he is…”

*​

Marek Hamsik.​


Position -- Central Midfield / Attacking Midfielder.
Age -- 22.
Nationality -- Slovakia (12 caps / 2 goals)
Current Club -- Napoli.
Previous Clubs -- Brescia and Slovan Bratislava.
Last Season -- 32 league appearances, 9 goals.​

Marek is a player with a growing reputation among Italian football fans. He made his international debut for Slovakia in February 2007 and has been an integral part of his country’s set-up ever since. A strong player who often controls the midfield area. Marek has great awareness; a varied passing range; and sharp shooting skills. He is a highly dangerous offensive midfielder.​

*​

“This guy looks good,” I thought, “We’re not exactly short in the midfield area, but this lad could do some serious damage in the Bundesliga. I’ll have to alert Christian before someone else snaps him up.”

I left the ground and rushed back to the hotel.

“Fax machine?”
“In the lobby sir,”
“Thank you.”

I’m really excited at what I saw today. This player has superb talents. Hopefully, Christian will go and watch him soon.

Minutes later, my mobile beeped -- it was a message… ‘I thought you said the squad was fine? I’ll get a scout on him asap. Christian J ’

***​
 
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I'm still following Carine, and still loving it! :)
 
Carine said:
Cheers guys -- appreciate your comments :) Should be an update later on -- not too late though, so if you've got nothing else planned, come and have a gander :)
Click to expand...


Shall do kid :)
 
16th July 2009...

16th July 2009 -- 2.30am.

“What the **** is that?” I thought, reacting to the clatters and bangs coming from the hallway. I rolled over in my bed and looked at my alarm clock, “2.30am? ****** holidaymakers!”

A mobile rang… ‘I’m the Firestarter! Twisted Firestarter!’ pummelled the silent night-time airwaves into submission. If that wasn’t bad enough, it was followed by a man’s drunken calls of ‘Wooo-la, Wooo-la, Wooo-la, Yarrrrrr!”

“Oh, for the love of…” I grumbled, wrapping my head in my pillow.

“Hawo,” the drunk slurred into his phone. He spoke like someone hard of hearing -- bellowing, when whispering would have sufficed, “Me izzz (hic) back at zee otel. Tank (hic) you for tonight.”

His voice echoed through my room -- though muffled by my pillow.

“Tank you?” I thought, “I'll ****** Tank you if you don’t hang up and go to bed. Some of us have training in the morning.”

*​

8.30am.

“Good morning Bastian,” Andries smiled as I walked into the lobby.
“Good?” I replied, “What’s good about it?”
Andries laughed, “Did someone have a rough night?”
“You could say that,” I answered, “A drunken buffoon decided to take a rather loud phone call outside my room this morning… at 2.30am!”
Andries laughed again, “One of the downsides to booking a hotel during holiday season.”
“Yes,” I replied, but that didn’t make me feel any more energetic. Indeed, the thought of training made my stomach turn.

*​

9.05am.

The squad gathered in the dining room for breakfast as had been organised the day before. I say the ‘squad’, but there appeared to be a glaring omission from our ranks.

“Where’s Franck?” I asked.

No one answered.

“C’mon,” I probed, “Someone must know. Where is he?”
“I haven’t seen him since we left the hotel yesterday afternoon,” Philip (Lahm) replied, shrugging his shoulders.
“Last I heard,” Miroslav (Klose) added, “He was heading to a restaurant to meet up with someone, but that was about 8pm.”
“And that’s all we know?” I probed again, whilst staring deep into the eyes of each individual present -- searching for a show of weakness in their eyes.
“I’ll go and look and for him,” Andries groaned, “He’s probably over slept.”
“Aye, I hope that’s all he’s done,” I replied.

*​

Andries rejoined us a few minutes later, “In bed?” I asked.
“He was, until I threatened to knock his door down if he didn‘t get up. He’ll be down soon, after he’s showered.”


*​

10am -- training.

“Ah, Monsieur Ribéry! Glad you could join us!” I called out sarcastically as he eventually joined the group in time for training.
“Sorry,” he replied, “I forgot to set my alarm.”
“Jeez,” I gasped, noticing the heavy bags under his eyes, “You look like s**t!”
“I’m fine,” he answered, unconvincingly -- his wincing betraying his words.
“If he’s fine, run him into the ground,” I whispered to Andries, as the Frenchman joined his team-mates.

We trained hard and fast for the next two hours. We’ve no game until tomorrow and, if I’m honest, the players have had it slack over the last few days.

Andries made Franck pay for his lateness -- I’d be surprised if he oversleeps again any time soon.

“Yeargh, orrrgh,”

“****** **** Franck!” Andries shouted as the player ran to the surrounding hedges to throw up, “What‘s up with you?”
“Nothing,” he answered wiping bile from his chin, “Maybe a bug?”
“Okay,” I called, “That’ll do him for today. Go and get cleaned up.”

The rest of the squad finished with a high-tempo game of 3 touch. They were switched on and bright -- if we take this attitude into the game tomorrow, we should win easily. Franck will play some part in the match, providing his current frailties don’t explode into something more sinister.

*​

2pm.

We reconvened for an afternoon of tactical discussions. So far, we have kept things simple. Basic football with no frills attached. In the upcoming game against Antwerp I want to push things further and utilise the skills of the players we have available.

“We will line up in a 4-5-1 stroke 4-3-3 formation,” I began, “You’ve played a stripped down version of this already, but tomorrow we will take it one step further…”

Of course, even in a diary, I cannot divulge the full extent of our discussion. What’s the use of a master plan if I lose my journal and it suddenly appears on eBay -- with our formation and tactical ideas written inside?

*​

Evening…

The players were confined to the hotel tonight. They’ll be no ‘lauding it up’ the night before a game. Spirits seemed good and most of the players threw darts or hit pool; others simply conversed or shared in friendly banter.

“Tomorrow should be a good game,” Andries said, “It’ll be interesting to see how your plan plays out on the pitch.”
“Yes,” I replied, “It’s time we stepped up a gear.”


***​
 
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