23.March.2015, München, Germany - a preview
I sat in my office in Allianz Arena (my office is decorated in 1860's light blue, rather than the galling red of our Continental giant landlords), when a knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.
"Please come in," I called out.
The door opened, and I caught my first glimpse of Rubin Okotie in several months. Okotie, a 6'2" Austrian Striker contracted with 1860 entered, glaring angrily at me. This was an angry, bitter man: not that I could fault him. In all my decisions and interactions in my 18 month career as a Manager, my treatment of Rubin stuck out as the most regretful. Rubin stood in front of my desk, fuming. I had no doubt that he wanted to jump across the desk and throw some punches - and further no doubt that he would have, were it not for our other guests.
Okotie's agent, Bastian Thaller, followed him. Bastian, also an Austrian, didn't mirror his client's anger - instead he looked smug and arrogant. The last person to enter the room was Thomas Finck, my Assistant Manager.
I stood from my chair: I had no intentions of offering a handshake to people who hated me, it would just seem trite. Instead, I motioned to a round table across the room. "Please, let's have a seat," I offered.
"David," Bastian opened, "I'll be brief. First, I resent having to come here for this: your actions this season, and this week, are absolutely unacceptable. Second, we consider Rubin's contract with 1860 to be null and void: rest assured, he will be joining Hamburg next season."
"Bastian, Rubin: thank you for coming. I'm curious, though, Bastian - on what grounds do you consider our contract invalid?"
"We have negotiated a binding 3 year contract with Hamburg, there's really no question about it," retorted Bastian.
"1860's contract, Bastian, predates your agreement with Hamburg. We are merely exercising our right to a 1-year extension, a clause which you and Rubin freely negotiated with my predecessor."
"You promised to release me on a free," stammered Rubin, "you gave up the right to extend my contract."
"You came to me," I reminded him, "along with 8 of your teammates. Early in the season, we were mired in the lower half of the League standings. You verbalized your frustrations."
"Your leadership was horrendous," he interrupted.
"At the time," I replied, "I noted the need for a youth movement, and asked for everyone's patience. Every player, aside from you, left that room satisfied. Instead, you stormed into my office three weeks later - at the start of a 9-match stretch without a loss, mind you - and complained that you were still upset. You threatened to shut down, letting your contract run out so you could leave on a free."
"You accepted the conditions," Rubin scowled.
"I did not. I believe my exact words were 'Have fun attracting interest while playing for our Reservists."
"David," interjected Bastian, "we will take this to FIFA. I have no intention of allowing my client to spend another year in your system so you can convince him to proceed without an Agent and take further advantage of him."
"You will lose, Bastian. The contract ties no terms to the extension clause." said Thomas flatly.
"Rubin," I addressed my player, "a player of your age and potential should have an Agent. If anyone, whether associated with 1860 or not, tells you otherwise, don't believe them. It is not for me, or any of my staff, to say which specific Agent will serve your interests the best."
"I will not play for you - not this season, not next season." he dug in.
"Hamburg, Rubin," I offered, "is very likely to be relegated for next season. We, on the other hand, are in the thick of a promotion fight. Bastian - leave aside this feud for a minute - what would you advise a client to do? Start a 3-year contract in the second division as a rotation player, or enter a contract year as a regular starter in the first?"
"I'd advise my client," he responded, " to go with the club that will treat him fairly."
"Your promotion is far from secure," snickered Okotie, "more of a pipe dream, really. Your results have been horrendous since the winter break, and you have injury problems up front, which is the only reason you want me back on the field."
"That's not true," I lied, "I realize that I treated you unfairly and that I ruined any chance to secure you long-term. Still, you have a role to play with this team."
"Hamburg will spend just one season down," he continued, "whereas 1860 have proved themselves to be utterly incapable of returning to top-flight German football."
"We have seven matches left, Rubin. I'll start you in each one provided you are healthy. If you score 5 or more goals in those 7 games, and if we fail to secure promotion, we'll agree to mutually terminate your contract."
"We have no reason," yelled Bastian, "to trust your word!"
"You don't have to trust me," I countered, "we'll put it in writing. Thomas?"
My assistant produced the document that we had created and signed before the meeting, and slid it over to Bastian.
Bastian read it over, glanced at Rubin, and said "Gentlemen, please give me a few minutes alone with my client."
"Listen, Bastian," offered Rubin, "there's no need - is the agreement solid?"
"It is," said Bastian.
"Good - either I'll be in the First Division next season, or the Hamburg offer will stand. I'll agree."
"Good, Rubin," I said, offering to shake his hand. He accepted, and I asked Thomas to show him his locker.
My guests left, giving me time to reflect on the events of the past season and a half, which took me from a random Assistant Manager to a Manager knocking on the door of top flight football...
I sat in my office in Allianz Arena (my office is decorated in 1860's light blue, rather than the galling red of our Continental giant landlords), when a knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.
"Please come in," I called out.
The door opened, and I caught my first glimpse of Rubin Okotie in several months. Okotie, a 6'2" Austrian Striker contracted with 1860 entered, glaring angrily at me. This was an angry, bitter man: not that I could fault him. In all my decisions and interactions in my 18 month career as a Manager, my treatment of Rubin stuck out as the most regretful. Rubin stood in front of my desk, fuming. I had no doubt that he wanted to jump across the desk and throw some punches - and further no doubt that he would have, were it not for our other guests.
Okotie's agent, Bastian Thaller, followed him. Bastian, also an Austrian, didn't mirror his client's anger - instead he looked smug and arrogant. The last person to enter the room was Thomas Finck, my Assistant Manager.
I stood from my chair: I had no intentions of offering a handshake to people who hated me, it would just seem trite. Instead, I motioned to a round table across the room. "Please, let's have a seat," I offered.
"David," Bastian opened, "I'll be brief. First, I resent having to come here for this: your actions this season, and this week, are absolutely unacceptable. Second, we consider Rubin's contract with 1860 to be null and void: rest assured, he will be joining Hamburg next season."
"Bastian, Rubin: thank you for coming. I'm curious, though, Bastian - on what grounds do you consider our contract invalid?"
"We have negotiated a binding 3 year contract with Hamburg, there's really no question about it," retorted Bastian.
"1860's contract, Bastian, predates your agreement with Hamburg. We are merely exercising our right to a 1-year extension, a clause which you and Rubin freely negotiated with my predecessor."
"You promised to release me on a free," stammered Rubin, "you gave up the right to extend my contract."
"You came to me," I reminded him, "along with 8 of your teammates. Early in the season, we were mired in the lower half of the League standings. You verbalized your frustrations."
"Your leadership was horrendous," he interrupted.
"At the time," I replied, "I noted the need for a youth movement, and asked for everyone's patience. Every player, aside from you, left that room satisfied. Instead, you stormed into my office three weeks later - at the start of a 9-match stretch without a loss, mind you - and complained that you were still upset. You threatened to shut down, letting your contract run out so you could leave on a free."
"You accepted the conditions," Rubin scowled.
"I did not. I believe my exact words were 'Have fun attracting interest while playing for our Reservists."
"David," interjected Bastian, "we will take this to FIFA. I have no intention of allowing my client to spend another year in your system so you can convince him to proceed without an Agent and take further advantage of him."
"You will lose, Bastian. The contract ties no terms to the extension clause." said Thomas flatly.
"Rubin," I addressed my player, "a player of your age and potential should have an Agent. If anyone, whether associated with 1860 or not, tells you otherwise, don't believe them. It is not for me, or any of my staff, to say which specific Agent will serve your interests the best."
"I will not play for you - not this season, not next season." he dug in.
"Hamburg, Rubin," I offered, "is very likely to be relegated for next season. We, on the other hand, are in the thick of a promotion fight. Bastian - leave aside this feud for a minute - what would you advise a client to do? Start a 3-year contract in the second division as a rotation player, or enter a contract year as a regular starter in the first?"
"I'd advise my client," he responded, " to go with the club that will treat him fairly."
"Your promotion is far from secure," snickered Okotie, "more of a pipe dream, really. Your results have been horrendous since the winter break, and you have injury problems up front, which is the only reason you want me back on the field."
"That's not true," I lied, "I realize that I treated you unfairly and that I ruined any chance to secure you long-term. Still, you have a role to play with this team."
"Hamburg will spend just one season down," he continued, "whereas 1860 have proved themselves to be utterly incapable of returning to top-flight German football."
"We have seven matches left, Rubin. I'll start you in each one provided you are healthy. If you score 5 or more goals in those 7 games, and if we fail to secure promotion, we'll agree to mutually terminate your contract."
"We have no reason," yelled Bastian, "to trust your word!"
"You don't have to trust me," I countered, "we'll put it in writing. Thomas?"
My assistant produced the document that we had created and signed before the meeting, and slid it over to Bastian.
Bastian read it over, glanced at Rubin, and said "Gentlemen, please give me a few minutes alone with my client."
"Listen, Bastian," offered Rubin, "there's no need - is the agreement solid?"
"It is," said Bastian.
"Good - either I'll be in the First Division next season, or the Hamburg offer will stand. I'll agree."
"Good, Rubin," I said, offering to shake his hand. He accepted, and I asked Thomas to show him his locker.
My guests left, giving me time to reflect on the events of the past season and a half, which took me from a random Assistant Manager to a Manager knocking on the door of top flight football...
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