Foal From Grace - A Borussia Mönchengladbach Sequel to 'Singing the Blues'

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Season Two - 2027/28

Part Thirteen
​

Welcome back to Foal From Grace! Two familiar faces help to summarise all the preparations that've been made for my second season at Borussia-Park.

This part is spread across multiple posts, so make sure to catch the whole piece!

Series Links

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“We can’t hear you, Keith. Are you muted? Try clicking the button with the microphone on. Nope, wrong one, your video’s gone too now. Oh, picture’s back, but still no sound. Now we can see your screen. Why are you looking at -”

“Oh my DAYS, Keith, it’s the button on the left, at the end, that literally says ‘unmute’ underneath it!”

“Thanks, Matt, very clear instructions,” my former assistant manager, Keith Downing, says. “Now, how do I…”

“Towards the middle, there should be an icon labelled ‘share screen’, or something similar - click that,” I explain.

“Yeah, no one wants to know why you’re researching the best way to dispose of a human body,” my other ex-assistant, Matt Gardiner, adds.

“It’s for a crime novel I’m working on,” Keith says. “I’ve been enjoying the free time I’ve had over the last year and really cracked on with some personal projects.”

“I’m a little jealous,” I chuckle. “Wish I had the time to work on a creative-writing project.”

“I think you should settle for having won a treble in your debut season at Borussia Mönchengladbach instead,” Keith smiles back.

“Very true,” I grin. “Anyway, how’ve you both been? How’s the allotment coming along Keith?”

“It’s been great! I’ve had beetroot, salad onions, and carrots in abundance this year, just need to get to grips with looking after tomatoes a bit better, but Matt said he’ll come round sometime because he’s got some tips th-”

Matt clears his throat quite aggressively to stop Keith in his tracks.

“I think you’re misremembering, Keith. I said I’d send my MOTHER round - you know gardening’s not for me,” Matt says, not quite convincingly enough for me to believe him, but I humour him and pretend his macho persona remains fully intact.

“That’s very kind of you Matt,” I note. “How’s coaching the kids gone for you?”

“Dont wanna talk about it,” he grunts.

“Why not? Finish bottom of the league?”

“No, they won it, in fact,” Matt says. “Problem is, I got the boot after only a few weeks. Apparently, eleven- and 12-year-olds can’t handle a bit of tough love.”

“Didn’t you tell me you called them ‘rat-faced, yellow-bellied, nail-biting cowards’ when they were a goal down at half-time?” Keith asks.

“I did, and I regret nothing - those girls went on to win 4-1,” Matt smirks.

“Deine Freunde klingen lächerlich,” Alexis Geiler comments, not looking up from the Spanish textbook she’s taking notes from on the other side of the room, making me snort.

“What was that?”

“That was my Head of International Managerial Affairs,” I say.

“I didn’t say ‘who’, I said ‘what’,” Matt frowns.

“If I remember my brief German studies correctly, it sounded like they said ‘Your friends seem ridiculous’ to me,” Keith says.

“You’re mistaken, Keith. She said that you ‘seem fun’,” I lie.

“Oh, well, I do apologise. How nice,” Keith beams, though Matt seems less than convinced. “Anyway, that’s enough about us - you’ve been having a busy summer, Nicole!”

“Indeed,” I say, puffing out my cheeks. “I wasn’t planning on it, but a €52 million budget and the omnipresent-threat of Saudi Arabia’s state-backed spending rearing its head again left me with rather a lot to play with.”

“How much was it you got for Reiss Nelson and Devyne Rensch, again?” Keith asks.

“€65 million from Al-Ittihad and €60 million from Al-Nassr, respectively,” I answer. “They both offered half those prices originally, then accepted our first counter offer - I feel like we could’ve gotten even more ludicrous fees for them after that.”

“Their wages must be bonkers?”

“The equivalent of €800,000 a week, each.”

“Bleedin’ ‘eck,” Matt says, eyes widening. “That’s life-changing money.”

“Pretty sure all top-flight footballers are already on life-changing money,” I laugh. “It’s not like many other jobs regularly pay the millions that professional football does.”

“Very true,” Matt nods. “I don’t imagine your other exits feel like they’ve missed out, for example.”

“No, not really - the combined €57,275,000 from the transfers of Oscar Fraulo to Wolfsburg, Giorgio Cittadini to Parthenope, Simon Walde to Hertha, and Ivan Nevistić to West Ham suggests there’s plenty of wages flying around for them too,” I reason.

“And it’s only been a couple of first-team loans out so far, right?” Keith checks.

“Right. Emanuel Emegha has been shipped off to PSV to try and discover some form after his injury, like Nelson Weiper did at Valencia -”

“Don’t you mean ‘rediscover’?”

“I meant what I said,” I scowl. “Then Rafael has gone to Paderborn for the next two seasons, so he can get the playing time he needs to develop, given opportunities would be limited if he stayed here.”

​

“How much did you pay for him in January?” Matt queries.

“We were paying for his potential,” I mumble.

“€22 million, wasn’t it?” Matt teases.

“Well, yes, but not all up front,” I note, trying to salvage some dignity.

“Whatever helps you cope, boss,” Matt sniggers.

“With Rafael leaving, then, you needed a new backup goalie,” Keith observes.

“Correct, hence Oliver Christensen came in from Fiorentina. He was first choice there, but they missed out on Champions League qualification and he wanted to leave, so he felt like a sensible choice - especially as he profiles very similarly to Gregor Kobel,” I explain, sharing my screen so I can show the reports on my signings to my old colleagues, something I realise I’ll have to pretend I didn’t do.

​

“How much?” Matt asks

“Potentially €31,500,000.”

“WHAT?!”

“Wait, you know how this works by now, Matt,” Keith says, with a wry smile. “How much is due after 50 league games, something your backup ‘keeper is highly unlikely to achieve any time soon?”

“€17,500,000,” I giggle. “Good catch, Keith. I have no idea what the Italians were thinking.”

“Clearly, they weren’t,” Matt says, bluntly. “Same could be said for Crvena zvezda letting you sign a centre-back as good as Miloš Šarac for a possible €11 million, especially when Lyon fleeced you for an initial €45 million for Abderrazak Talbi later in the same window, who isn’t that much better - if he is at all.”

​

“How do you know the financial details of our transfer business?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve got my sources,” Matt shrugs.

“It’s not me,” Alexis calls.

“It’s not,” Matt confirms.

“What do your sources make of the arrivals of Mark Barber from Spurs and his ex-teammate Pierre-Emile Højbjerg, on loan from Juventus?” I ask.

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

“I watched Barber in the Championship with Southampton last season, whatever you paid is probably a steal because he has huge potential,” Keith interjects.

“It was €22 million, rising to €33 million with add-ons.”

“Bargain,” Keith says.

“I agree,” Matt adds. “Højbjerg is obviously a very different scenario to Barber, but an experienced head, with Bundesliga and Champions League experience, is exactly the sort of player that can prove to be invaluable to a squad - especially with how young your team is.”

“Right, like that 17-year-old you signed from Hannover,” Keith notes.

“You mean Cardo Makengo?” I open his report on my computer. “He’s mainly here to develop for now, rather than going straight into the senior team, given there’s not going to be a lot of chances for him to get minutes.”

​

“What did he set you back?” Keith asks.

“Just over €14 million.”

“WHY did you spend so much on Talbi?!” Matt groans.

“Because he’s left footed and I panicked!” I shout, far louder than I intended. My former assistants stare at me silently as Alexis finally peels her eyes away from her studies. I clear my throat before continuing much more quietly. “I need some more young options for left centre-back, and I didn’t want to miss out, especially with Manchester City sniffing around Dan-Axel Zagadou. Besides, Cardo was only so cheap because of his release fee, so we dived in there straight away when Chelsea and Real Madrid began making half-baked offers.”

“It was a summer all about release fees,” Alexis says, going back to her notes.

“That’s right, three in total.”

“Blimey, all that money spent up front - did you feel alright, gaffer?” Matt winks.

“Not really, but I had two more targets I wanted and I wasn’t missing out on them: Wouter Burger for €55 million from Bayer Leverkusen, who will slot in perfectly on the left of our midfield diamond with his excellent engine and passing range, and Tariq Lamptey from Brighton for €62 million, someone I believe to be one of the best wing-backs on the market.”

​

“Both signed for less than their predecessors were sold to Saudi Arabia for, I see,” Matt says, scanning the screen, clearly impressed despite his best efforts to appear emotionless. “Some decent business you and your team have done here, chief.”

​

“With all these signings, and the treble last season, I presume you’re favourites to repeat your success?” Keith says.

I throw my head back in wild laughter. It takes me almost a minute to finally compose myself again.

“No. Not even close.”

​

“The media don’t know what they’re talking about,” Matt says. “We all saw the odds they gave us at Blues.”

“Exactly, though I’m quite worried that Bayern will come fighting back with a vengeance,” I sigh. “They don’t settle for second-best for long…”

“Well, their kits will be second-best this season, that’s for sure,” Alexis says.

​

“Isn’t that the same manufacturer as we had?” Keith squints.

“It is. I was told then it was a local lady, but I’m being told the same again here, so who knows what’s going on. Maybe it’s that same lady who blogs about me,” I shrug.

“What a ludicrous thought,” Matt snaps. “Bloggers don’t do graphic design, it’s not in their nature to be good at writing AND illustrating.”

“I like the blog,” Keith says, making Matt and me raise our eyebrows. “What? I’ve had a lot of free time and thought I’d check it out. Makes for a good read, though the way she ends things with Harry is a bit unbelievable.”

The blood drains from my face at the mention of Harry’s final visit to my office.

“It’s all dramatised though, right? She’s probably making stuff up for views, to keep readers hooked,” Matt reasons.

Phew.

At that moment, a doorbell can be heard through on one of the others’ microphones.

“Ah, that’ll be my pizza.”

“It’s barely ten o’clock in the morning, Matt,” I judge.

“I’m unemployed, there are no rules,” he says, a little too proudly.

“I like that way of thinking, Matt. Perhaps I’ll order one myself,” Keith chuckles. “In that case, it’s probably best we both go, Nicole. Good luck for your first few games.”

“Alright, no problem, have a good few weeks” I say, hiding how sad I am that I couldn’t talk to the pair for longer. “Are we still on for meeting up when I’m in Brum for the Super Cup?”

Both my ex-colleagues beam from ear to ear.

“Oh, Nicole,” Matt starts.

“We wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

* * * * * * * *​

Thank you for reading! A link to my socials and my previous story can be found on my Linktree, and please follow the thread to be updated every time there's a new post!

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Part Fourteen
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Welcome back to Foal From Grace! Four different competitions, two trophies on the line, and my first face-off with Birmingham City since my departure just over a year ago - buckle up for a loaded episode.

This part is spread across multiple posts, so make sure to catch all six games!

Series Links

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“What’s the matter, boss?” Kevin Nolan asks, noticing the look of slight concern on my face when he walks into our dressing room at Borussia-Park.

“I have this weird feeling in the back of my mind that I just can’t place,” I sigh, slumped on the bench. “Like Blues have been relegated in an alternative universe, or something similar…”

“You say the weirdest things sometimes, you know that?” Zlatan Bajramović says, following Kevin through the door. “It’s probably just the nagging sense of dread that comes with facing Bayern.”

“Probably,” I nod. “I know we’ve beaten them the last two times we’ve played them, but it never feels any less intimidating.”

“For all we know, last year was an aberration,” Kevin says. “You’re right to be wary.”

“Am I though?” I ask, standing up. Kevin and Zlatan exchange a glance. “I mean, think about it: we won a treble last season, we strengthened our starting eleven over the summer, and Bayern have barely moved in the transfer market while some of their best players have angled for a move - shouldn’t we be more confident?”

“Maybe, but here’s the thing: they’re Bayern,” Zlatan says. “We may have won everything last season, but they won the previous 14 Bundesliga titles and it’s not that long ago that they won the Champions League. And, yes, we’ve strengthened, but their quality has always been so much higher that they stay streets ahead of us even by standing still.”

“I thought I was pessimistic,” Kevin mumbles.

“Sorry, I’m not having the best of times,” Zlatan says, dropping his head. “I know I shouldn't be so negative, I know I should be excited for a new season, but life’s been hard recently and I’m finding it difficult to be positive about our prospects.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.

“I guess, not that there’s a lot to talk about,” Zlatan answers, letting out a soft, ironic laugh, sitting down a couple of seats along from me. “Losing people you love is rough, my passions no longer interest me, and each day feels like more of a struggle than the last. What’s the point in getting up in the morning when nothing seems to matter anymore?”

“Because it’s all anyone can do,” Kevin says, perching next to our colleague. “Your pain will slowly fade, but you have to keep putting one foot in front of the other. If you don’t try to move forward, how can you expect to leave your difficulties behind?”

Zlatan nods, then quickly buries his head in his hands. Despite hiding his face, the movements of his back and shoulders tell us all we need to know.

I slide across and join Kevin in wrapping an arm around Zlatan.

“I love you, Zlats, and I’m here for you,” Kevin whispers, his own eyes starting to glisten. “It’s okay to be sad. Whatever you need, whatever you want, whenever that may be, I’ll be there.”

“Ditto,” I add. “You don’t have to deal with this on your own.”

Zlatan straightens his back, eyes red, and sucks lots of air in through his nose then out through his mouth, gradually settling his breathing back to normal. “Thank you, both of you,” he says, after about half a minute.

“Don’t mention it,” Kevin murmurs.

“If you want to take a bit of time to process, I’d understand. Why don’t you head home and look after yourself for a bit?” I suggest.

“NO,” Zlatan says, authoritatively. “No. I want to see us complete our domestic set, and I’m sure the boys can do it.”

“That’s the spirit,” Kevin says with a wobbly smile. “Let’s win this darn Supercup.”

​

We start the stronger of the two teams, the unhappiness present in the Bavarians’ squad over the summer not yet subsided and the disharmony clearly affecting their play. The usually imperious juggernauts look more like 1860 Munich as they stumble through the opening proceedings, and nothing sums up their plight more than Matthijs de Ligt receiving the ball from Marc-Andre ter Stegen in his own box, turning and just… stopping, like he can’t work out where one of his socks has gone while sorting the washing, allowing Nicolò Tresoldi to steam in, rob the Dutchman of possession, spin, and fire in from 12 yards.

Tresoldi has the ball in the net again within minutes, only to be flagged for offside, but even this show of insolence in the face of our illustrious visitors generates little reaction, and we don’t even face a shot on target until over an hour has passed, by which point Dominik Szoboszlai has lashed a second past Ter Stegen to put us well in control.

Yet again, Bayern barely respond.

After so much build up and so many sleepless nights, the former Champions cause so few headaches that we don’t even feel the need to get stodgy as we enter the final minutes.

Our painful loss on penalties last year still in our thoughts, our demons are exorcised as the final whistle goes and we win the German Supercup, the last of Germany’s domestic honours left for us to claim since my arrival.

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Over the break between campaigns, I started looking forward to which quaint stadium we’d be visiting in the opening round of the DFB-Pokal, however that excitement soon subsided when we got matched up with one of the only four 2. Bundesliga sides to go unseeded in the draw, Karlsruher.

Even though we’re not facing the usual batch of semi-professional footballers that are offered up as sacrifices to their Bundesliga overlords at this time of year, I still feel fairly confident in the abilities of my Backup Brigade to get past a side that nearly dropped out of the second tier last season, giving me the first chance to get a look at some of our new recruits in competitive action.

​

When we were drawn against the highest-ranked team possible, I knew our first-round tie wouldn’t be as easy as, say, our match against Homberg in the equivalent fixture last season.

What I wasn’t prepared for, was just how much harder they were going to make life for us.

It’s clear from the start that Karlsruher have been working on a plan to stifle us for several weeks, their press highly organised in a compact 3-5-2 that stops us from finding many routes through the midfield and drags the game down into a scrappy back-and-forth affair that suits our hosts far more than my boys, leaving us unable to fashion any major chances and forcing extra time.

The pattern continues during the additional half an hour as we’re about as creative as a football badge from the 2010s onward from open play. Even once we finally break the deadlock when Miloš Šarac heads in at the back post from the second phase of a corner, Karlsruher just go straight down the other end and equalise within minutes, meaning we’ve somehow ended up going to a penalty shootout, a shootout in which neither goalkeeper saves a single effort, leaving us incredibly relieved that Daniel O’Shaughnessy shanks KSC’s fifth penalty several yards wide.

We’re through to the second round, where we’ll face Hoffenheim - just like last season - and will have to step up our game from today.

Embarrassing.

* * * * * * * *
​

“It just had to be here, didn’t it?” I say to Krystian Bielik as we step off the team coach, acknowledging the gathered crowd as we do.

“There’s a certain irony in our first game against Blues since we left being held at Villa Park, yes,” he agrees as we head into the stadium and down the corridor. “Having the home dressing room hurts a bit, too.”

“I know, as if we ARE Villa, trying to beat Blues.” We both shudder.

“There’ll definitely be some people who’ll feel like we’re the villains of the piece, jumping ship within days of the club’s biggest triumph,” Krystian reasons.

“Yes, well, that’d be pretty unfair, considering how much of an influence we had on getting us there in the first place,” I note. I pause as we pass by the door to Birmingham’s quarters.

“Don’t, boss,” Krystian says, putting his hand on my shoulder. “There’s a time and a place, and this isn’t it.”

“I know,” I sigh. “It’s just -”

“Whatever you're about to say, it doesn’t matter,” Krystian says, cutting me short. “We’re here to represent Die Fohlen, so we need to act as such - regardless of our personal feelings.”

“You’re right,” I nod, pulling myself away from where our ex-team are gathered. “Let’s go.”

Before we can enter our dressing room, however, the door to Blues’ opens and Anel Ahmedhodžić, Krystian’s replacement as captain, pokes his head out. “Krissy? Gaffer?”

“Hiya, Anel, good to see you again. Y’alright?”

“Fine, thanks. Just wanted to ask you to stop eavesdropping and sod off to your own area - you’re the enemy now,” Anel glares, slamming the door.

Krystian and I stand on silence for a few seconds, staring at where Anel’s face had been.

“Well, they don’t miss us as much as I thought.”

​

Quite predictably, it’s the Champions League holders that take control of the early exchanges, and a well-worked move from the English side is capped off by Oscar Gloukh, firing past Gregor Kobel before we can get a foothold in the tie.

After we kick off again, we finally start gaining confidence, helped by Antonio Conte’s wariness with regards to pushing for more goals once ahead, and the belief that we can draw ourselves level begins to grow. On the brink of half-time, Szoboszlai grazes the bar with an audacious volley, and Tresoldi finds space at the front post around the hour-mark, only for Justin Bijlow to spread himself wide and block the flick from Luca Netz’s cross, with Ibrahima Konaté on hand to sweep away the loose ball, but it now seems inevitable that we’ll find our way past my former employers.

Which makes it even more heartbreaking when we concede the most un-”Nicole Andrews’ Birmingham” sucker punch moments later, Konaté lumping an aimless ball downfield that Edwin Zamudio can only head straight to Endrick, the Brazilian getting the ball out of his feet before curling into the top-left corner from the edge of our area.

With the second goal going in, our momentum is gone. We get the ball in the net via Jesper Lindstrøm, but Tresoldi is offside in the build up, and we slowly fade, the energy draining from our performance as the Bluenoses in attendance start the party early, revelling in the trophy that they’re about to win at the home of their biggest rivals. I’m sure I’d be in amongst them in other circumstances, yet all I feel is irritation as, despite having the better of the chances, my Borussia Mönchengladbach side can’t find a way past the two-time Champions of Europe.

Birmingham take the bragging rights in the inaugural Nicole Andrews Derby.

* * * * * * * *
​

With a 2-0 win, a 2-0 loss, and a 1-1 draw from our three games in cup competitions, it’s finally time to discover what sort of start we’re going to make to our league season, with a trip to Hoffenheim on the cards to open our Bundesliga campaign, the same opponents we faced in my first ever league match in Germany - what is it with Hoffenheim and repeat fixtures?

Despite the loss on Wednesday, it’ll be the same starting eleven that took on Birmingham as I look for my players to react to that disappointment in the West Midlands by putting Die Kraichgauer to the sword.

​

We look fired up from the first whistle, rattling the crossbar within the opening five minutes which causes Hoffenheim’s players to exchange knowing glances. They’ve been here before, on the receiving end of a post-disappointment Gladbach performance last season too, so few are surprised when Bielik heads in a Tariq Lamptey cross with enough power to launch a space shuttle, before Netz makes a first-time pass when intercepting a ball into midfield from a rattled Emanuel Aiwu to free Tresoldi to blast in a second a few minutes later.

With a two-goal advantage, we can afford to ease off the gas, controlling the tempo of the game for the remainder of the 90, and Hoffenheim struggle to find the urge to seize possession and break us down, letting us cruise to three points and a clean sheet on the opening day.

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

In a way, I feel a little guilty over the plight of Bayer Leverkusen. Brendan Rodgers’ side were in with a chance of qualifying for the Champions League when we played them in our penultimate game of last season, until Tresoldi scored a winning goal with only three seconds to play, condemning Bayer to the relative ignominy of the Europa League and, as a result, leaving their squad members vulnerable to being picked off by clubs in Europe’s premiere competition. Squad members like Wouter Burger, for example, being picked off by a club like us, for example.

Whilst we still have the luxury of a whole week between fixtures, I’ll continue to name the strongest lineup possible, so there are no changes from the opening day for our first home Bundesliga match of 2027/28.

​

A number of fans haven’t even reached their seats when Moussa Diaby lets us off the hook by directing a tame effort straight into the arms of Kobel when clean through one-on-one, and a decent percentage of those are still on the concourse when Tanguy Nianzou powers in Netz’s inswinging corner at the front post to capitalise on that poor finish. However, before the opening quarter of an hour has passed, Szoboszlai has the chance to double our advantage, only to be denied by an excellent save by Gavin Bazunu, and his failure to convert soon appears costly when Lee Kang-in later floats a free-kick towards the back post that Kobel misjudges, allowing Mattias Svanberg to gently lift the ball over our stranded ‘keeper and restore parity.

As the game wears on, our visitors continue to frustrate us, directing us down dead ends and nullifying our threat time and again, but if my teams have proven anything over the last five years, it’s that sometimes all we need to tilt the balance of play in our favour is a single set piece, a belief that comes to fruition when Nianzou is on hand again to react first and poke Dan-Axel Zagadou’s parried header over the line for our, and his, second.

With less than a quarter of the game to go, Leverkusen need to force the issue to get back into things, trying and failing to break through our backline again, but this means that gaps start appearing behind their own, and a fresh Emil Holm takes advantage by scampering through the left of Bayer’s tiring defence and lifting in a high cross that Tresoldi heads into the ground, wrong-footing Bazunu to double our lead and take all the points out of our visitors’ reach.

* * * * * * * *
​

“And that, Nicole, is why Ghost Rider will never be surpassed as my favourite Marvel movie,” Alexis Geiler says as she stands to open her blinds while the credits roll.

“I do enjoy it, to be fair, and the CGI holds up well against the test of time,” I nod from her sofa. “What do you make of claims it’s too different from its source material, though?”

“Ah, you mistake me for someone who cares about movies staying authentic to the literature they are based on,” Alexis says, taking the disc out of her DVD player and replacing it in its box. “I judge movies and books on their own merits, I don’t feel it would be fair to hold a grudge.”

“How can you separate them, though? Surely they should be considered alongside one another?”

“Well… no,” Alexis shrugs. “How to Train Your Dragon, for example, is both an excellent book series and an excellent trilogy of movies, however their narratives are completely different. Besides, if you’re always going to compare films to their books, you will almost always wind up underwhelmed.”

“True, like The Hunger Games,” I suggest.

“EXACTLY. Great books, great movies, but the movies just don’t hold up in comparison,” Alexis agrees. “It’s easier to avoid being disappointed if you don’t compile the two.”

As I take my phone out of my pocket and take it off of ‘Do Not Disturb’, several emails flood my screen, one of which catches my eye. “Speaking of disappointed, the highly exciting Champions League league phase draw has been sent through from UEFA headquarters.”

“Oooooo, let me see!” Alexis says, excitedly, jumping back onto the sofa and accidentally slapping me in the face with her cascade of hair in the process. “Oops, sorry, Nicole.”

“It’s fine,” I frown. “At least you don’t have it in a braid today, that would’ve been painful.”

With Alexis next to me, I tap on the notification and the email opens up in front of us.

“Well… could be worse…” Alexis mumbles.

​

“I mean, we beat Marseille and Wolfsburg last season,” I say.

“Qarabağ don’t have much recent success in Europe.”

“Spurs and Sevilla might be alright…”

“Barcelona got to the semi-finals last time out…”

“PSG won the whole thing two years ago…”

“And Chelsea are the first team to win the Premier League since you left… but, other than that, I am sure you won’t have too many issues,” Alexis laughs, nervously.

“Let’s just turn our attention back to St. Pauli this weekend and forget about all of those stresses,” I say.

“Only briefly, this is our free time right now, after all,” Alexis says, raising an eyebrow. “I know you’re resting Szoboszlai to bring in Lindstrøm, but are you still dropping Zagadou for Šarac?”

“Yes, he won’t stop grumbling about not being sold to Manchester City, so he can have some time on the sidelines to cool off a little.”

“Good choice. Now, back to business: next movie.” Alexis pulls back the folding door from the cupboards that line the whole of one of the walls in her lounge, revealing nothing but DVDs. “Would you like to browse?”

“We’ll have been knocked out of the Champions League by the time I get done looking through all of that.”

​

As the final whistle sounds, I allow myself a few small fist pumps before heading over to shake Adi Hütter’s hand, then join my players on the pitch for their celebrations. A goal each for the eternally reliable Lindstrøm, Lamptey, Netz, Nianzou, and Burger made for an incredibly comfortable afternoon of football, though Marlon Mustapha’s consolation immediately after our third did take a little of the shine off of proceedings.

As we approach the away fans, I catch up with my captain and vice-captain.

“Well done, boys, another excellent display,” I beam. “It’s been a great start, though the fact Bayern are already ahead of us on goal difference suggests they’re going to provide more of a threat from the off this season.”

“We’d be top on goals scored if SOMEONE hadn’t let a shot from 20 yards get past them,” Krystian smirks.

“Oh, spare me. It was right in the corner,” Gregor says. “Plus, you’re meant to be screening the defence. He was your man.”

“Come on, lads, don’t squabble after we’ve just won 5-1 away from home,” I plead.

“Sorry, boss, I should know better than to tease Greg when he’s already feeling sensitive,” Krystian says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” my goalkeeper scowls.

“Well, this was our fourth game against St. Pauli since the gaffer and I turned up, and I’m still the only player to have kept a clean sheet against them,” Krystian mocks.

Gregor stares daggers at his teammate before turning to me.

“I’m handing in a transfer request.”

* * * * * * * *​

Thank you for reading! I know that today’s intro was a bit less fun than usual, but that’s because I wanted to highlight an issue close to my heart: Mental Health Awareness Month.

With society in the state that it’s currently in, a lot of people’s mental health is more strained than ever. If you’re struggling, just remember that you’re not alone. It might seem hard, but the best thing you can do is talk about it, be that with family, friends, or an overly sarcastic woman who writes silly stories about Football Manager.

That’s not the easiest thing to do for everybody, however, so I’m asking each of you to reach out to at least one person you know and check in with them this May. They might be completely fine, they might not want to talk about their problems, but you never know - you might make someone feel wanted when they feel more alone than ever.

Now, next week’s Foal From Grace is a little up in the air as (more positively) I’m off to Borussia-Park in the real world to see Die Fohlen take on Alexis’ Eintracht Frankfurt, so the best way to find out if a new instalment is coming is to follow my Instagram, which you can find on my Linktree along with links to my Twitter (screw you, Elon Musk), my previous story, Singing the Blues, and a new link to ‘CALM’, a charity dedicated to helping people who are struggling to cope in a world that so often doesn’t seem to care.

Look after yourselves.

Love, Nicole

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Part Fifteen​

Welcome back to Foal From Grace! My debut Champions League campaign with Die Fohlen kicks off, and a clash at the Allianz Arena could set the tone for this season's title race.

This part is spread across multiple posts, so make sure to catch all six games!

Series Links

​

International breaks. Glorious fortnights without club football that allow managers and coaches time to regroup, to conceptualise new ideas, to train their players one-to-one, and prepare for the next fixture, all without having to rush. These breaks finally became bliss for me at Birmingham after a lifetime of wishing international football would disappear into the ever-expanding void of defunct footballing practices, never to be seen again like the Intertoto Cup, the chance for any team to be successful in Europe, and chain smoking. Oh, how I long for all the extra time on the training pitch with all my lads.

“Good morning, Nicole,” Alexis Geiler says as she walks through the door at 7 a.m. on the dot. “I see the jigsaw table is back out again.”

“More than half the first-team squad is away on international duty, so I told everyone to come in later today and enjoy some extra rest - there’s not a lot of work we can do as a team for the next few days,” I sigh. “When I first started out as a manager, it was only ever Juninho Bacuna jetting off with Curaçao that I had to worry about, but it’s getting harder and harder to get anything productive done during these breaks now.”

“Hence, the jigsaw.”

“Hence, the jigsaw,” I repeat, gesturing to the partially constructed puzzle laid out in front of me.

“Are we the only ones here, then?” Alexis asks, dropping her red rucksack next to her desk and sitting down.

“Think so,” I nod. “Zlatan has an appointment first thing to have his headaches assessed -”

“Skip the doctor and go straight to the herbal tea, it’s all he’ll be prescribed,” Alexis mutters.

“- and I’m assuming Kevin is still recovering from the England game last night.” I turn to my laptop and click my way through to his calendar. “Yep, here we go. ‘20:45: England match kicks off’; ‘21:08: Quick break to chunder after too many beers’.

“I’m not sure I’ve heard the word ‘chunder’ before.”

“It’s an informal, British term meaning ‘to vomit’.”

“Ah,” Alexis says, her face drooping from intrigued to disgusted faster than the average tenure of a Watford manager. “I probably could have guessed that from context, in all honesty. Why are you here, then? Why not spend some extra time with Beth?”

“She’s gone to visit her sister back in Britain and spend some time with our nieces. Now the house feels too empty, so I came here instead,” I explain.

“You should have said, you could have stayed at my place, rather than spend extra time at work,” Alexis says, sympathetically.

“It’s fine, I don’t want to be a burden. Besides, there’s free coffee here and I’m used to being bereft of my wife in this place,” I chuckle. “Just wanted to keep myself occupied somewhere that doesn’t make me feel lonely.”

“Hence, the jigsaw.”

“Hence, the jigsaw,” I repeat again, both Alexis and I smiling.

“What’s the picture of?”

“I don’t know, it’s one of those you have to work out as you go along,” I say.

“You must be the only person I know who’d do something that unnecessarily hard.”

“Well, you’ll be shocked to hear that Kevin lent it to me, actually, and apparently enjoyed finishing it very much.”

“Really?” Alexis queries. “I struggle to believe that.”

“That’s what he told me, and I tend to trust the man,” I shrug.

“I’m surprised. Good for him. I keep learning things about Kevin that I’d never have guessed,” Alexis admits.

“Which is odd, considering how open he is - we probably should know him better by now,” I say.

“True. One person I do know well, however, is you, and I know that you probably want a coffee right about now,” Alexis says, standing up again. “I’ll make you one, seeing as I want one too and you’ve probably made at least two yourself by now.”

“Thanks, Lexi, that’s very kind.”

Alexis rounds her desk and fiddles with the coffee machine for a moment, stopping in her tracks as she glances at the jigsaw.

“Nicole?”

“I’ve just seen it too.”

Even with only about a third of the puzzle complete, it’s become apparent what the final image is going to be.

Kevin Nolan has lent me a 1000-piece jigsaw of his own face.

​

With Schalke winless from their opening three games on their return to the Bundesliga, it’s hardly surprising that even our slightly rotated side totally dominate the first half, progressively getting closer and closer to finding the net until Tariq Lamptey cuts in from the right and lashes an effort past Marius Müller on the brink of the interval to finally give us the lead our play deserves.

The boys come out after the restart motivated to keep up the good work, barely giving our visitors a moment to breathe before Wouter Burger drills in a second from the edge of the area, and our luck looks to be in when Sékou Mara makes rugby fans proud by managing to clear the crossbar from only four yards out.

As time progresses, it looks likely we won’t add a third and start taking our foot off the gas, however this allows the side from Gelsenkirchen the chance to get themselves back in the game when Philipp Max cracks in a thunderous volley from 20 yards, so I, begrudgingly, set out instructions for getting stodgy and kill the tie as we muddle our way through the final minutes, creakily securing the three points when it should have been much more commanding.

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

After a gap year in the Europa League, Borussia Mönchengladbach and I both return to Champions League action, travelling to Spain to take on Sevilla in our league-phase opener.

With much harder fixtures to come, a win here against La Liga’s tenth-placed side could be vital, so I name the strongest set of outfielders I can, though Oliver Christensen steps in for Gregor Kobel between the sticks as I show faith in my backup ‘keeper to rise to the occasion against one of his former clubs.

​

Perhaps my team’s inexperience in Europe’s top club-competition could explain why they seem so over-awed by the pressure that comes with playing on the biggest stage, but the fact we don’t concede during a frenetic opening period that sees Konstantinos Mavropanos miss a free header at a corner and Rafa Mir pull his shot wide from the corner of the six-yard box is nothing short of a miracle as the Andalusians’ pedigree looks to be pushing them towards victory.

However, their intensity dips after half-time, and two chaotic minutes in the final quarter of an hour turn the game completely on its head. First, having grown in confidence, my boys have started playing some very nice football at last, and this finally produces a goal when Lamptey is let loose down the right and skids in a cross that Nicolò Tresoldi happily flicks past Etienne Green from close range. Then, straight from kick-off, Sevilla come flooding forward and Zeki Çelik loops a cross to the back post that, inexplicably, already-booked Óscar wafts an arm at, connecting and receiving his second yellow to reduce our hosts to ten without us even having touched the ball after scoring.

From here, the plan is obvious: get stodgy. And has it ever failed before? Not for a very, very long time, and never against a side a man light, and so it proves to be once more.

A victory and a clean sheet on our return to Champions League action will do very nicely.

* * * * * * * *
​

After an energy-sapping trip on Wednesday, the thing you need is to travel to the Allianz three days later, however the fixture computer has no sympathy for us and is clearly from Cologne, so off to Munich we go for our Saturday-afternoon clash.

Despite the travelling and quick turnaround involved, Bayern’s strength means I have little choice but to name a similar lineup to that which won in Seville, the only changes being Kobel’s return in goal and Jesper Lindstrøm getting the nod ahead of Dominik Szoboszlai after a series of impressive performances have earned him the chance to show what he can do against one of the best teams in the country.

​

For weeks, I’ve been telling myself that we’re reaching Bayern’s levels, closing the gap between us and the most dominant club in German football.

Today, however, crushed that idea.

From the start, Bayern look to have a point to prove. With disputes from the summer settled and Dani Olmo returned to the number-ten role after a baffling sojourn on the right for the Supercup, our hosts are back to their best, but not without a huge dollop of help from Kobel. Serginho Dest finds some space for himself on our left and sends an innocuous-looking cross towards the back post, however our vice-captain chooses to come rushing off his line and, not unlike Kelle Roos in the 2019 Championship play-off final, watches on in dismay as Gabriel Vidović mimics John McGinn, ghosting in front of the goalkeeper and heading into a totally unguarded net.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, we fail to respond, allowing Leroy Sané far too much space and time to pick his spot from six yards, only to uncharacteristically slice wide, before a low centre from the German winger ten minutes later is haplessly palmed into the middle of our penalty area by the shaken Kobel and Joshua Kimmich reacts first to stroke into our once-again-empty goal.

Having failed to muster a shot of any kind before the break, I share some heated opinions on their performance with my men, hoping to inspire some sort of reaction when they re-emerge from the dressing rooms for the second half, however that hope vanishes within seven minutes as Matthijs de Ligt powers in a corner, before Manu Koné goes hurtling through the back of Dayot Upamecano with two feet and a whole heap of frustration, receiving his marching orders for a tackle that would likely make a number of abattoir workers wince.

Weirdly, after being reduced to ten, we actually look like more of a threat, finally nabbing one back through a smart finish from Tresoldi, however the dye had clearly been cast already and we seemingly only found the space to score as a result of Bayern’s defence having fallen asleep after such a quiet afternoon in the sun. Our consolation wakes them back up and, predictably, Bayern start to strangle our play, completely controlling the final half an hour as we crumble when presented with our biggest test of the season so far.

Bayern remind us that, despite our success last season, this league is still theirs to lose.

* * * * * * * *
​

“It’s a good job we’ve had a bit of time to process that beating,” Kevin says as we watch a practice match on Saturday morning. “A whole week to get the lads to channel their hurt productively.”

“We do tend to react to defeats rather viciously,” Zlatan Bajramović agrees. “Like children that’ve had their teddy bears taken from them.”

“Not quite the fearsome analogy I was looking for, but it’ll have to do,” Kevin shrugs, before leaning back to peer around Zlatan at me. “You alright, gaffer? You’ve been very quiet.”

“I’m watching the play, making sure Pierre-Emile and Nico are slotting into the lineup as seamlessly as I’d hope,” I reply, not looking around. “As you should be, too.”

“I am,” Kevin frowns. “We’re all annoyed by the Bayern result, boss, don’t take it out on us.”

“Sorry, I won’t do it again,” I apologise. “I just really hate losing.”

“That can be helpful to get you to the top of the game, but you need to maintain a balance to make sure you don’t get on the nerves of all your players,” Zlatan reasons.

“I am aware of this and think I normally find that balance, but I take your point,” I nod. “I’ll try to -”

Before I can finish my sentence, Dan-Axel Zagadou comes sliding in on Tariq Lamptey just in front of us, nearly clattering my assistants and me with his follow-through.

“Good challenge, Daz,” Kevin praises. “Just mind the chief, she’s in a bad mood.”

“Whatever. Who cares?” Dan-Axel grumbles.

“What was that?” Zlatan asks.

“She’s not the only one in a bad mood, perhaps you should spend more time talking to your players,” Dan-Axel says, glaring at me.

“Is this still about Man City?” I scowl.

“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, let’s evaluate this: Man City made a single bid for you, which was wildly below our valuation, before deciding they weren’t going to make another offer, so they clearly weren’t that invested in signing you,” I say.

“Sorry, I -”

“Then, despite them dropping their interest, you decide to sulk until well after the transfer window closed and disrupt the start of our season in the process,” I continue, my voice raising and drawing the attention of the whole squad. “This means I keep having to weigh up whether you can be trusted to play important matches and, just as I start to again, you proceed to switch off at a corner within minutes of the second half starting to let Bayern score their third.”

“Yes, but Gregor -”

“Now I don’t feel it’s worth the risk to play my best-performing centre-back from last season, because he’s unhappy about not getting his transfer to a club that had only minimal interest in him and couldn’t make another move for him for three months, even if they wanted to.” I’m now shouting. Some of my players are whispering to each other. Others are trying to hide their laughter. “So, tell me: why are you in such a bad mood when we’re the ones who have to deal with you sulking every gosh-darn day of the week about having to play for a treble-winning team on tens of thousands of Euros, despite you being happy to sign two contracts here within the last 14 months, you childish turnip?”

Everyone stares silently at us, Dan-Axel’s eyes swivelling in their sockets.

“Sorry I’ll try and put it behind me,” he mumbles.

“Good. You’re still not playing tomorrow, but you’ll be back in consideration after that,” I say, to which Dan-Axel nods and starts jogging back into position. “Come on, you’ve got a match to play - get back to it!” I shout at my players, jolting them back into action. As play resumes, I glance over to see both of my assistants looking at me.

“Okay, maybe I need to find a better outlet for my frustration.”

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

All the usual post-loss fire is out in abundance, as predicted, and Mainz don’t look like they’ll be able to cope as we tear through them like a chainsaw through jelly in the opening minutes, with Tresoldi nodding in his third in three games to put us ahead, but our intensity starts to dip and we have little more than our goal for our fans to shout about by the break.

Well, I had plenty to shout about, at least.

We start the second half like the previous 39 minutes of football never happened, right back to our incisive selves, and we’re rewarded with an almost identical start to that of the previous period, this time Liam Heywood, on as a half-time substitute, nutting in a front-post header from a corner.

From there, we settle into a pattern of control, something that’s much more comfortable with a two-goal lead than just the one, and, aside from one hairy moment at the death that saw Jonathan Burkhardt scamper through our backline before firing comically wide, our visitors offer little danger in front of goal, allowing us to get back to winning ways and for Kobel to redeem himself with a clean sheet after his atypically wobbly display last weekend.

* * * * * * * *
​

Be it when I was at Birmingham two years ago, or in my first Europa League adventure last season, Marseille started making a habit of popping up in the league phase of whichever European competition I’ve been taking part in, and this campaign is no different as the side from the south of France travel to Borussia-Park for our second fixture of this season’s Champions League.

With Zagadou putting his issues behind him, he’s restored to the starting eleven, along with Christensen and Heywood as they take the place of the rested Kobel and not-fully-fit Burger respectively.

​

The atmosphere at Borussia-Park is always spine tingling, but the way it amps up even more for my first Champions League game here almost makes me feel overcome with emotion when the noise from the Nordkurve hits me as I walk out of the tunnel.

Around the quarter-hour mark, I feel vindicated in my choice to keep Pierre-Emile Højbjerg in the lineup after his impressive performance against Mainz when the Dane follows it up by playing a sumptuous ball over the top for Szoboszlai to run on to and slot in, courtesy of a huge deflection off of Leonardo Balerdi’s left shin. It’s a glorious three minutes of smugness. Only three minutes, however, because Højbjerg then shows one of the tendencies that made him surplus to requirements at Juventus by careening into Sergio Reguilón like a cheetah on roller skates when he’s headed nowhere on the left of our box, landing Marseille a penalty that The Other Luis Suárez places perfectly into the bottom-right corner.

We struggle to recover from this setback, and things go from bad to worse when Lamptey is forced off with a back strain that’ll keep him out for around three weeks, but the funny thing in football is that momentum can swing from one direction to the other in a single moment, and that moment is when Isak Hien wrestles Szoboszlai to the ground as Emil Holm’s cross looks destined to float over everybody, handing us an unlikely lifeline that Tresoldi takes, thumping the spot kick straight down the middle and knocking the belief from Les Olympiens.

With their stubborn resistance finally broken, Marseille’s confidence vanishes. We go close to a third moments after our second, only for Lindstrøm to miss a free header from six yards out, but it matters for naught as our visitors fail to retaliate again and we scrap our way to back-to-back wins at the start of our Champions League campaign.

* * * * * * * *
​

Given Hertha only avoided last season’s relegation play-off by two points, I don’t think many would have predicted them to be seventh after six games this time out. However, they are, and a trip to the Capital is next on our agenda.

Whilst Kobel, Koné, and Burger can be restored to their starting berths after their absences for differing reasons on Wednesday, our team is weakened slightly by the loss of Lamptey at right wing-back. Nevertheless, it’s still as strong a side as I can name, the memory of being embarrassed at the Olympiastadion last season still vivid, as we aim to enter the October international break on a high.

​

Back in the dressing room, I’ve thrilled my players by letting them know that they’re being rewarded for an excellent showing by getting to stay another night in Berlin and enjoy themselves for a change. A Burger rocket and a Lindstrøm tap-in bookended a very competent performance as we seem to be getting back towards our efficient best and, with deeper analysis being saved for the coming week, the chatter has now turned to everyone’s plans for the next 24 hours.

“What’re you planning on getting up to then, boys?” I ask Tariq Lamptey and Krystian Bielik.

“Captain’s going to show me the sights,” Tariq says. “I’ve not been to Berlin before.”

“And I never tire of sightseeing,” Krystian adds.

“Sounds like fun,” I smile, moving further around the room to Luca Netz and Nico Schlotterbeck. “What about you guys, anything fun on the cards?”

“I’m trying to convince Luca to come with me to see Sachsenhausen, but he’s hesitant,” Nico answers, frowning at his fellow left-sided defender. “Do you not want to learn more about the political history of our country and the impact it’s had on shaping modern societies?”

“It’s unsettling, there is no way I am willingly going to visit somewhere so depressing,” Luca snaps. “Besides, I don’t need to learn any more than I already know, it’s not like history is going to repeat itself. As if anyone would scapegoat an entire ethnicity, religion, and/or minority group again, blaming them for the majority of their country’s problems in order to hide the greedy motives of politicians in power seeking to force through their ideals at the expense of the needy.”

“That sounds like what the UK does with asylum seekers,” Nico shrugs. “Right, Bossin?”

“Huh…” I murmur, a crippling sense of disgust creeping over me, so I edge away slowly until I reach Liam Heywood and Mark Barber. “Please tell me you’ve got something enjoyable planned.”

“We’re probably just going to stay at the hotel,” Liam says. “Football Manager 2028 comes out soon, so we want to finish the season on our network save. We’re also trying to decide if we carry on from when we were at Spurs as Porto and Benfica, or whether we start a fresh one.”

“Personally, I think we should start new and play as English clubs,” Mark says. “Now we’ve left, it doesn’t feel so dirty. Any ideas, gaffer?”

“One of you could start out as Birmingham, like I did,” I suggest.

“They’re far too overpowered, boss, it wouldn’t be a fair challenge for whoever doesn’t get them,” Liam reasons.

“Wow. I wish that was my problem when I took over,” I laugh, leaving the youngsters to their debate and sitting between my assistants.

“You’re unusually chipper today, chief,” Kevin says.

“On the surface,” I nod. “I could raise my concerns or pick at minor faults if I wanted to, but I DO understand that I need to cool it from time to time.”

“Why now, specifically?” Zlatan asks. “Not that I’m complaining, nor working on researching management techniques…”

“I don’t mind, Zlatan, I wouldn’t stand in your way if you decide you want to go into management - you’ve got to do what’s right for you,” I smile, receiving one in kind from Zlatan. “So, why now? Well, it’s simple really: a dozen of this lot are about to go away with their national teams. I want them to take positive memories from today so that, when they come back in a week and a half, they want to get straight back to giving their all to the cause - and we’re going to need them to.

“Judging by way Bayern and Dortmund have started, it’s looking likely to be a much tougher title battle than last season.”

* * * * * * * *​

Thank you for reading! A link to my socials and my previous story can be found on my Linktree, and please follow the thread to be updated every time there's a new post!

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Part Sixteen​

Welcome back to Foal From Grace! A derby, two huge Champions League ties, the DFB-Pokal, and a match against a title rival make this one of the biggest stretches of games of the season. Oh, and Hamburg are also here.

This part is spread across multiple posts, so make sure to catch all six games!

Series Links

​

“Welcome back to the Away Fohllowing podcast, the podcast brought to you by the English-language fanzine for all of Die Fohlen’s international fans,” Dan Porter introduces. “We’ve had some exciting interviewees already for our debut season, but perhaps none more so than the person joining me today, the manager of Borussia Mönchengladbach’s men’s team, Nicole Andrews. Nicole, thank you for taking the time from your busy schedule to speak to us today.”

“That’s quite alright, Dan, it’s a pleasure,” I say, glancing up and smiling as Alexis Geiler gives me a wink from across the office. It’s the first Wednesday of an international break, so the only other thing on my agenda for today is a table-football tournament. Being partnered with Maik Taylor has given me far too much confidence, though Alexis and Kevin Nolan will be formidable opponents in the opening round.

“I want to start off by addressing the phenomenal start to your time in Germany,” Dan states. “Having only been in the job for a little under a year and a half, there’s already been four pieces of silverware added to the trophy cabinet, and you seem to have firmly ensconced yourself in the hearts of fans with your attack-minded football and willingness to give young players the chance to shine in the first team. Is it fair to say you’re settled and happy at Borussia-Park?”

“Absolutely,” I beam, hoping my happiness comes through in my voice. “I’ve felt welcome here since day one and have never doubted my decision to join as it’s a huge club with the fanbase to match, and the support we receive every week is simply staggering. The most important thing of all, though, is that I feel at home, and that’s something I wasn’t sure would happen away from Birmingham, so I can’t thank the supporters and everyone involved with the club enough.”

“I think it’s fair to say that most people were quite surprised by your decision to leave Birmingham after your unprecedented quadruple,” Dan notes. “Had you planned to leave at the end of that season anyway, or did something happen to prompt you to leave?”

“It was a decision that I made after that Champions League final as I felt I’d achieved all I could at Blues,” I answer, choosing to omit any details about Harry. “There was little more I could do and I thought it was the right time to move on, leaving behind a young squad that had won it all and looked set to carry on doing so.”

“Do you regret your departure, looking on from afar as Birmingham struggles to keep up the standards you set?”

“Well, they comfortably won last season’s Champions League and then beat us in the Super Cup, so I wouldn’t say they’ve fallen apart without me,” I joke. “In all seriousness, I don’t. They’ve had difficulties domestically, but I’m sure they’ll turn it around soon enough and, whilst I miss some of the people at Blues, I think my record since leaving has proven I’ve been vindicated in the decision to back myself to perform outside my comfort zone.”

“Absolutely, you’ve really hit the ground running with Die Fohlen,” Dan agrees. “Having signed a three-year deal on arrival, there must have already been some efforts from the board to try and get you to commit to a longer project?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” I shrug.

“Really?! Even off the back of the club’s first treble?!”

“Nothing,” I say, perhaps a little too venomously. “I suppose that, in their eyes, I’m tied down for at least this season and next, so there’s no rush, though whether a player would get the same sort of treatment, I don’t know - Nicolò Tresoldi and Dan-Axel Zagadou didn’t.” Oops, straying dangerously close to saying something that could get me in a whole heap of trouble, I think to myself. Better turn this around, Nicole. “That said, I don’t want my commitment to this project to be doubted for a second - I signed up for a minimum of three years, and I promise I won’t be walking away before then.”

“Some strong statements there, Nicole, thank you for your candour. I think I wouldn’t be alone in suggesting that hearing you commit yourself to Die Fohlen for at least the next two years is possibly the best piece of news we could hear,” Dan says. “One final question, before I let you get back to work: how’re you planning on managing your squad for the two huge fixtures that are coming after the international break, to make sure you have the best chances possible for both the derby and against Chelsea?”

“With great caution,” I laugh.

“Of course,” Dan chuckles. “It’s been a joy to have you on today, Nicole, thank you for your time.”

“I’ve thoroughly enjoyed it, Dan, thanks for having me.”

With that, we end our call and I lean back in my chair, puffing out my cheeks.

“That got a bit spicy towards the end,” Alexis says, pumping her eyebrows once. “Will the president be alright with what you had to say?”

“Tobias greenlit my interview, he must have known it was a risk,” I reason. “Besides, at least I’ve made my contract stance clear - he should be appreciative.”

“I doubt he will be.”

“Yeah, me too…” I mumble. “I probably shouldn’t have aired my grievances on a podcast, but I do feel frustrated that there wasn’t even a discussion around a new deal at the end of last season.”

“I can understand that, Nicole,” Alexis nods. “It’s not nice to feel like your hard work is going unrewarded.”

“And that’s how it feels. But oh well, too late now anyway. I hope that chat will draw some attention to the matter.”

“Exactly; what’s done is done, and you can’t change the past. All you can control is your present and your future,” Alexis says. “Speaking of, have you made any plans for after the tournament today?”

“Nothing set in stone, why?”

“Just making sure you haven’t arranged anything too late, otherwise you’re going to have a lot of waiting around to do after we’ve knocked you out,” Alexis sniggers.

I throw a pen across the room, swirling in the air as it misses Alexis by about a metre, the top springing off as it clatters against the wall and its components spill over the floor.

“Touchy today, Nicole?”

“Do me a favour, Lexi, find a new job, won’t you?”

​

Regardless of our trip to Stamford Bridge three days later, our preceding match against Köln is too important to our fans for me to rest anybody, as I fear some of the less-experienced players would struggle to cope with the pressure of performing in such an intense atmosphere and this is a game we can’t afford to lose, so I’m pleased with my decision when my boys start dominating play shortly after kick-off, having the ball in the net soon after the halfway point of the period, however Tresoldi was offside in the build-up to Dominik Szoboszlai’s finish.

For all our intricate attacking-play, however, it’s a moment of individual magic that finally tips the balance in our favour on the brink of half-time.

Having received the ball from Luca Netz’s throw-in, Wouter Burger makes a smart turn to generate some space for himself and drifts a cross towards Emil Holm on the edge of Köln’s box, the ball bouncing about a yard before it reaches him. Usually, I’d expect Holm to control the ball and look for someone else in space, however the Swede does what few people in the stadium could have predicted, contorting his body until his right leg is parallel to the floor, before making a glorious connection with the rising ball and lashing a vicious volley into the top-right corner of the net, blowing the proverbial roof off in the process.

Being a goal down, Köln now don’t seem sure of what to do. Their entire strategy centred around clinging on for as long as possible in the hope of nicking a point, so there’s an apparent acknowledgement of this when they come out for the restart with an intent to take the game to us. It’s an admirable decision that results in us scoring another offside goal within eleven minutes, before Zagadou clonks in a header at the corner two minutes after that, at which point our visitors accept their inferiority and give up, returning to their previous technique of hoping we’ll go away if they leave us alone, allowing us to conserve some energy as we breeze past our rivals in the first Rhein Derby of the season.

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Ah, Chelsea. Once a constant thorn in my side at Birmingham as we contrived to suffer a 1-0 defeat every time we faced off, eventually we overcame the Londoners to become the superior team in the ‘Battle of the Blues’. Since I left, however, the resurgence they’ve sparked has been almost the exact inverse of the slump that my old club has suffered domestically, going on to claim their first league title for a decade last campaign.

As a result of this unlikely comeback, I gave all of those who played on Sunday an extra day off from physically demanding training so that I can name the same outfield ten again on Wednesday, whilst Oliver Christensen returns for his usual duties in our non-Bundesliga fixtures.

​

I want to say it was a classic affair between the Champions of England and the Deutscher Meister, I really wish I could, but when the first shot of the game doesn’t come until half an hour has passed, we don’t have one of our own until there’s only five minutes to go, and the biggest threat to either team’s goal is Zagadou toe-poking a Reece James cross just outside of his own post, I think it’s fair to say I’d be lying.

A staggeringly dull affair that means I’ve only seen my side score one goal in four fixtures against English clubs since leaving for Germany, but an important point in our quest to qualify for the knockout stage of the Champions League.

* * * * * * * *
​

With two big games in four days, changes are now necessary as we travel to the Volksparkstadion to take on Hamburg the subsequent Saturday evening, so Gregor Kobel and Tariq Lamptey both return to the starting eleven, while Zagadou, Krystian Bielik, and Szoboszlai are all given a rest as Abderrazak Talbi, Gustavo Gallardo, and Jesper Lindstrøm deputise, hopefully keeping us performing at a high enough level to get past the Bundesliga’s 12th-placed team.

​

“I’m starting to worry, boys, that we’ve lost our appetite for scoring goals,” I say to my assistants as we walk back down the tunnel after the match. “Yes, we won 1-0, but it shouldn’t be taking us until the 90th minute to break down Hamburg via a corner.”

“At least we’re getting it done one way or another, regardless of how the goals go in,” Kevin says.

“I agree, only two losses so far this season against Bayern and Birmingham is fairly impressive,” Zlatan Bajramović comments.

“And yet, we’re still only third in the league,” I sigh. “We’re going to need to step things up a gear soon if we want to claim top spot as our own.”

“Ah, Nicole, just who I was looking for,” Club President Tobias Deppe says, rounding the corner at the end of the tunnel with a serious look on his face. “Come with me for a moment, I have something I need to discuss with you.”

Oh boy. I shoot a concerned glance to Kevin and Zlatan, who respond in kind, before I head over to Tobias.

“What can I do for you? Is this about the podcast?” I ask.

“Only if you’re talking about the Andrew Klavan show, that’s all I listen to,” my boss answers.

“Don’t worry about it, then,” I say, a little relieved, a little frustrated, and very disgusted.

“Alright then. Just wanted to get your view on an idea for wage investment.”

“Do tell,” I say, slightly optimistic now.

“How would you feel about us increasing the wage budget for physiotherapists?”

I stare blankly at Tobias’ face for a few seconds as I try to formulate an answer that doesn’t involve a heavy dose of sarcasm, or swearing.

“Rather than that, Tobias,” I say, slowly, “how about we talk about renewing my contract, considering the improvement in stature I’ve helped the club achieve?”

Tobias looks off into the distance, the cogs visibly turning in his head.

“No, I think I like my idea more.”

With that, he strides back off around the corner to, presumably, return to the executive box. After a couple of moments, my colleagues meander over as I continue to stare at where Tobias was last visible.

“How’d that go, gaffer?” Kevin asks.

“I think I’d have a more productive conversation with a hosepipe.”

* * * * * * * *
​

Our recent sequence of alternating between Bundesliga and cup fixtures continues for another week as the DFB-Pokal stirs from its bimonthly slumber on Wednesday night and Hoffenheim travel to Borussia-Park for our second-round tie.

With contests against Dortmund and Barcelona to come in the next seven days, I have to take a calculated risk. Our opponents are currently 15th in the league and, as such, I decide to rest over half of my strongest eleven, with the intention of withdrawing the remaining five around the hour mark, as long as things are going well.

​

Things are not going well.

Despite Robin Gosens nestling a beautiful, curling effort into the top-left corner during the second phase after a corner, we struggle to get a real grip on the tie and can have few complaints when Hoffenheim equalise in the 22nd minute, albeit via a huge amount of luck when Harun Atmaca’s speculative effort pings off of Facundo Pellistri’s shoulder to wrong-foot Christensen.

Bumbling onward, I eventually decide to make the majority of my planned substitutions as, frankly, I don’t think it can get much worse, which proves to be the case as we see absolutely no change in the quality of our play throughout the remainder of the 90, and likewise during the half an hour of extra time as we sleepwalk into a second penalty shootout in as many rounds of the Pokal.

As Cristoph Baumgartner steps up to take Hoffenheim’s first, he looks visibly uncomfortable. Looking short of confidence as he runs up slowly, his effort towards the bottom-right corner is comfortably, and predictably, saved by Christensen to hand us the advantage. From there, the subsequent eight penalties are all converted, allowing Edwin Zamudio the chance to clinch progress with our fifth which… he doesn't do, rattling the right post with his spot kick to take it to sudden death. Matteo Gabbia is next to chance his luck for our visitors, but his absurdly tame strike rolls straight down the middle and into our grateful goalkeeper’s arms, giving Lamptey the opportunity to send us through to the next round… and he does, coolly placing his shot right into the corner that Zamudio had aimed for but missed, the whole of our ground breathing a sigh of relief as he does so.

We’re making very hard work of taking Die Fohlen to their fourth-consecutive Pokal final.

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

“I still can’t believe Dortmund got knocked out by Hansa Rostock,” Kevin says as we have coffee together in the cafeteria on Friday morning. “No domestic losses all season, then that.”

“Have you heard what our scouts have said too?” Zlatan asks me.

“I’m fairly confident you’re the only one who reads those reports, Zlatan,” I say.

“Well, you know they had a bit of a clear out of their goalkeepers?”

“Yeah, they only have that 20-year-old left in the senior team - Chris Banks, is it?”

“That’s the one,” Zlatan nods. “Get this: he missed the game last night, apparently through injury, so we might be facing a teenager who just fell to pieces against a 2. Bundesliga side.”

“Honestly, how are they top of the league with squad-depth issues like that?” I ask.

“Roger Schmidt’s doing a great job,” Kevin shrugs, before looking at me with a cheeky grin. “Unlike Antonio Conte at Blues, eh, boss?”

“I know he won them the Champions League in May, but to have that squad tenth in the Premier League at this point of the season just isn’t good enough, so I’m not overly shocked he’s been sacked.”

“Sacking an Italian while struggling for form in the league worked for them last season, I guess, so maybe it’ll benefit them this time too,” Zlatan suggests.

“Maybe the gaffer should go back and fix them,” Kevin says, nodding in my direction.

“If I ever need to fall back in love with the sport, then maybe, but until such a time that I begin to feel empty inside, it’s not going to happen,” I chuckle. “That story is finished, as far as I’m concerned - I’m not ready for an encore.”

“You’d be treated like a queen,” Zlatan winks.

“Which would be delightful, right up until the point I mess things up and tarnish my legacy,” I say. As I finish my sentence, Alexis enters the dining room, looking around for me. I raise my hand and wave in her direction, catching her eye. She gives me a tired smile and starts walking over to our table. “If you’d excuse me, gents, I have some personal matters to discuss with Frau Geiler.”

“No worries, let’s go, Zlats,” Kevin says, standing up first before Zlatan joins him. The pair start walking towards the hot counter and I can hear Kevin explaining toad in the hole to Zlatan just as they go out of earshot, at which point Alexis sits in Zlatan’s vacated chair, putting her Starbucks cup down on the table.

“Crikey, those are some strong smells,” I say, arching an eyebrow.

“It’s a mocha with two extra shots of espresso and both caramel and hazelnut syrup,” Alexis groans. “I need some help getting going today.”

“Your heart might explode, rather than just ‘get going’.”

“At least I’d be free from the joyless responsibilities of adult life and their never-ending monotony.”

We raise our coffees with a sarcastic cheer.

“I take it the date didn’t go well then?” I ask.

“No,” Alexis snorts. “He spent the whole time bringing the conversation back to himself and his ‘commitment to the grind’, all the while staring directly at my chest.” We both roll our eyes. “Anyway, he lost me completely when he brought up that bear thing from a few years ago.”

“The ‘if you got lost in the woods, would you rather be stuck with a man or a bear’ thing?”

“That’s the one,” Alexis nods. “He asked me which I’d pick, I said bear, he asked why, I told him it was because the worst a bear could do to me was kill me, then he proceeded to trot out the ‘not all men’ line.”

“Seriously?” I sigh. “What did you say to that?”

“I told him that not all snakes are venomous, but that doesn’t mean I’d want to be locked in a room with a random one for 24 hours,” Alexis shrugs. “At that point, I checked my phone and pretended to have a family emergency, so I got up and left. That is the LAST time I let my brother set me up with anybody.”

“Might he ask your brother what the family emergency was?”

“Maybe, but I don’t care. Maybe he’ll take the hint? Besides, I’ve blocked his number already anyway,” Alexis says, slowly swirling her coffee around her cup.

“If you left so early, then why do you seem so tired?” I ask, making Alexis blush and stare at her knees.

“Because I was angry, sad, and a bit drunk, so I messaged my ex and went to see her, something that seemed to go nicely, but now I’m sober I feel disgusted with myself,” she explains.

“Oh, Lexi…”

“I know, I’m stuck in a toxic cycle of allowing people who’ve hurt me back into my life every time I’m feeling weak. I’m aware of it. I’m working on it. Progress is slow, but I’m getting better,” she says.

“Slow progress is better than no progress,” I say, making Alexis smile. “Speaking of progress…” I nod at the TV on the wall where the third-round draw for the DFB-Pokal is about to take place.

“Who do you think we’ll get?” Alexis asks.

“Did you just say ‘we’?” I smirk.

“I’m talking about Die Adler, obviously,” Alexis says, trying to save face.

“If you say so,” I laugh. “Just admit it, Lexi, you’re growing attached to this club.”

“Well, maybe I am, but - OH, WE’RE OUT FIRST!” she shouts, pointing at the screen as Eintracht Frankfurt are the initial team drawn for the round. “I hope we get one of the easier teams…”

The next ball is pulled out and revealed to the camera.

Borussia Mönchengladbach.

​

I look to Alexis to see her jaw locked as she stares at the fixture.

“You alright, Lexi?” I eventually ask.

“Just wondering how much worse this 24-hour spell can get,” she mutters. At that point, her phone starts ringing and she glances down at it. “Oh, good, my brother. Can’t wait to hear him try and explain away misogyny as flirting.”

​

We start the Borussen Derby brightly, beating the wobbly-looking 17-year-old Ritzy Leki twice in the opening seven minutes, only to see both efforts ruled out for offside, however the quality of our chances soon starts decreasing as Dortmund’s 4-4-2 becomes more and more compact, eventually stabilising Der BVB to the point that they start to control the game for a spell.

Soon, though, the intensity starts petering out until the match has descended into a messy, cagey, snoozefest as, even whilst being roared onward by a capacity crowd, we seem destined to play out a stalemate with one of our title rivals.

Until, in the 84th minute, Lindstrøm floats a corner to the back post that Liam Heywood cushions down, and time seems to stand still as the ball drops at the feet of Holm who, four yards out, can’t possibly miss, tapping in and igniting pandemonium around Borussia-Park.

As soon as the goal goes in, I’m writing down stodgy instructions and handing them over to my players, then I watch on gleefully as they rejig into their new shape and immediately suppress our visitors’ creative impetus.

No more attacks, no more threats, no more worries.

Three points against The Other Borussia that takes us top of the Bundesliga at last, even if it’s only for a night.

* * * * * * * *
​

In case one league leader wasn’t enough to contend with on Saturday, Barcelona, the current toppers of the Champions League’s league of plenty - plenty too many, that is - are the latest to attempt to wrestle my unbeaten record at Borussia-Park from me on Wednesday night.

Despite their lofty position in Europe, Xavi’s men have struggled in La Liga and find themselves sixth, rocking up in Germany fresh off the back of a beating by Sevilla. That said, fresh is probably not the word that should be used to describe their knackered squad, something we’ll look to take advantage of after resting the weekend’s lineup to keep them ready to go again here, with the only change for my 300th game in management seeing Christensen resume cup duty in goal.

​

In an electric couple of minutes, Vinícius Júnior, the most notable player to swap sides of the El Clásico divide since Luís Figo, hits the left byline and whizzes a ball to the back post for Ferran Torres to head in, before Tresoldi pulls us level without us letting Barça have another touch of the ball.

Our visitors look terrified from the moment we equalise, only managing one more shot in the remaining 79 minutes, and we keep creating chances, the biggest of which seeing Marco Carnesecchi pull off an unbelievable save to keep out a bullet header from Tanguy Nianzou at a corner, but we just can’t break through again, being frustrated by the Catalans’ stubborn resistance.

We’re forced to settle for a point that would’ve been considered fantastic prematch, but is ultimately a disappointment in the circumstances.

* * * * * * * *
​

On the face of things, being second in the Bundesliga and tenth in the Champions League doesn’t look as rosy as I’d like. However, we’ve mostly held our own against some teams who’ve been expected to batter us and, with a run of winnable fixtures on the horizon in both competitions, our outlook could change very quickly.

We are by no means playing to the best of our abilities at the moment, but that’s something that should terrify our rivals.

Once we really get rolling again, there’s not a team in Europe that will be able to stop us.

* * * * * * * *​

Thank you for reading! A link to my socials and my previous story can be found on my Linktree, and please follow the thread to be updated every time there's a new post!

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Part Seventeen​

Welcome back to Foal From Grace! Job offers, contracts, and Eintracht Frankfurt are crammed into this part where chaos reigns supreme.

This part is spread across multiple posts, so make sure to catch all six games!

Series Links

​

As I park up outside the training centre at Borussia-Park on Friday morning, something that hasn’t happened before has occurred today: a member of staff is here before me. I step out of my car and notice that, on closer inspection, the other vehicle here already is Kevin Nolan’s.

“Guten Morgen, Magdalena. Wo ist Kevin hin?” I ask our receptionist as I enter the building.

“Er ging in Richtung der Umkleideraum, glaube ich,” she replies.

“Genau, danke schön,” I smile. Following Magdalena’s instructions, I head down the hall and towards the facility’s dressing room for the first team, reaching the door within a minute and giving it a knock, but receive no answer, so I let myself in.

It takes me far too long to clock both the clean and dirty sets of Kevin’s clothes on the bench, along with the towel hanging from the hook on the wall next to the entrance. I do, however, notice the sound of the shower turning off and manage to turn 180 degrees - and just in time, too.

“Mornin’, gaffer. What’re you doing here?” Kevin says from behind me.

“I was looking for you, so I could ask you the same question,” I reply, refusing to move my gaze from a small bubble in the paint just above the doorway.

“Boiler conked out overnight,” Kevin states, very matter of factly. “I woke up freezing cold in the early hours, so figured I’d come in sooner than usual and take advantage of the water being hot. I didn’t realise you’d be here so early, though.”

“Yes, well, I don’t compulsively enter every detail of my life on a digital calendar like you do,” I laugh.

“Point taken. Could you chuck me that towel, please?” Kevin asks.

“As long as I don’t have to turn around.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”

“That’s already too much info, thanks.”

“Oh, of course - you’re a woman.”

“Had you forgotten?”

“I just think of you as the manager, your downstairs mixup doesn’t come into consideration for me,” Kevin says.

“That’s admirably progressive, Kev, albeit phrased a little crudely,” I note, reaching out and grabbing the towel from the hook. “Will you be alright if I just throw this over my shoulder?”

“Yeah, should be fine,” Kevin says. With that, I ball up the towel and launch it behind me, clearly missing Kevin when I hear it land with a wet slapping noise.

“Darn it. Could you get me a new one, boss?”

“Would it be in front of me?”

“Well, no.”

“Then, obviously, you’re on your own.”

“Fine,” Kevin sighs, the sound of drips and damp feet indicating his movement across the room. After a few moments of rustling, he calls out: “Okay, I’m decent.” I brace myself and finally turn around, relieved to see that Kevin has a towel wrapped around his waist, and another around his shoulders for good measure.

“Thank goodness,” I say. “I’m glad to not have the image of your ‘downstairs mixup’ burned into my retinas.”

“As am I, this figure is for no woman but my wife,” Kevin proclaims.

“Good for you,” I grimace. “Are you planning on getting dressed, or…?”

“I need time to dry adequately, you heathen.”

“You have two towels on!”

“They’re for privacy, not drying. I want to air dry, like nature intended.”

“Crikey,” I sigh. “In that case, I’m leaving.”

“No, don’t. Just gimme a mo.” I turn back to face the door again while Kevin makes various grumbling noises for several minutes. “Ready,” he grumbles, allowing me to return to my previous direction once more. “First my boiler, now not being allowed to air dry, whatever could ruin my day next? Zlatan’s leaving?”

“Actually, we have had a few clubs sniff around him, though I believe he’s been offered a new contract to ward them off,” I say.

“WHY do you think that’s helpful to tell me?!” Kevin seethes.

“Sorry, lapse in judgement,” I admit. “Is there any way I can help you at all, Kev?”

“Unless you can fix a boiler, I doubt it.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I chuckle, walking over and sitting next to my colleague. “I keep checking in with Zlatan, but probably not often enough with you as you don’t tend to seem too flustered by anything - not that that’s a good excuse for neglecting you.”

“I know, boss, it’s alright,” Kevin smiles. “Things haven’t been ideal, but it’ll be okay. Be it good times or bad, everything passes eventually, so I just go with the flow as best I can and remember to carry the happiness in my heart through any storm.”

“That’s very sweet, Kev,” I smile back. “Just make sure you come and talk to me the moment that storm gets too much.”

“I will, Nicole, thank you,” Kevin says. “Though, actually, I’ll probably go to Zlatan first, if you don’t mind?”

“Fine by me,” I nod “So long as you have the support you need, that’s all that matters.”

“Cheers, boss. Right then,” Kevin starts, standing as he sucks the air through his teeth like a mechanic about to bear bad news after your MOT, “shall we get ready for the players to arrive?”

“If you want, but it’s going to be a couple of hours until they do.”

“Really?”

“I think you’re wildly underestimating how early you were this morning.”

Kevin taps his phone to check the time. “Huh. In that case, do you want to play table football?”

“Not after that tournament a few weeks ago,” I say.

“It was all Alexis, she’s the one who’s highly passionate about ‘Kicker’.”

“You MUST remember the way you acted, surely?” I ask.

“Vaguely. I think I celebrated winning then shook Maik and your hands,” Kevin ponders.

“You let out a guttural roar then threw the ball at Maik’s forehead,” I frown. “He’s still got a slight mark just above his left temple.”

“Details, details, gaffer. You’re always so caught up in the details.”

​

After such a draining match against Barcelona on Wednesday, the necessary, large-scale rotation causes us to start very lethargically against bottom-of-the-league Werder Bremen, and we still haven’t really gotten into the groove by the time Renan yanks Mark Barber back by the shirt collar to hand us a penalty and the chance to kickstart our performance.

Or, alternatively, not.

Jesper Lindstrøm’s spot kick is at a good height for Iker Álvarez, and the goalkeeper guesses the right way to tip the shot around his right post, sending us into a spiral that culminates in our hosts scoring the opener in comedically straight-forward fashion, a long punt down-field being flicked over our defence and finished off coolly by Jordan Siebatcheu when one-on-one with Gregor Kobel.

With little positive change coming by the interval, I figure I’m going to have to try and force some. In an attempt to inject some life into our performance, I set about adjusting our formation to a 4-3-3, not dissimilar to the shape that brought so much success at Birmingham, pushing the remarkably versatile Miloš Šarac onto the right wing and shunting Lindstrøm over to the left.

Within 6 second-half minutes, we’ve gone from despair to dreamland.

First, Luca Netz’s cross drifts to the back post where it’s met by Šarac’s forehead at full speed to pull us level, then Barber finishes a well-worked move by smashing into the top-right corner from the edge of the area for his first in white, before Lindstrøm does the same moments later, only from a tighter angle after he cut in from the wing.

With the wind in our sails, my players look hungry for more, while Werder’s men look desperate to be allowed to go home, something they would eventually be allowed to do, but only after Barber nabbed a second for himself and Liam Heywood completes the rout at a corner as added time draws to a close, crushing our opponents in what would transpire to be Gerardo Seoane’s final game in charge, the Swiss being relieved of his duties shortly afterwards.

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

“Come on, Lexi, they make a point of explaining that everybody’s totem is unique to them, so the top CAN’T be Cobb’s, because it’s Mal’s,” I say.

“Then what’s Cobb’s then?” Alexis Geiler asks. “And why did it work for him?”

“His wedding ring, and I’m guessing, because his spell in limbo sent him off the deep end somewhat, he convinced himself of the top’s accuracy in discerning the real world from the dreams, rather than it being a true totem,” I argue.

“How much of that did you find on Reddit?” Alexis scowls.

“Only a bit, it’s mostly my own thoughts,” I say. “Why don’t I suggest Inception for our next movie night with the team, then I can show you what I mean?”

“I’m slightly offended you think someone as into movies as myself hasn’t watched it enough times to know exactly what you’re talking about,” Alexis snaps. At that point, there’s a rap of knuckles on the door and a short, neatly presented man with dark hair and black-framed glasses enters.

“Apologies, am I interrupting?” the man asks.

“Nein, Ms. Andrews ist einfach nur ein Dummkopf,” Alexis smirks.

“Hey! I can speak German now, remember? You can’t get away with mocking me,” I frown.

“THEN WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS SPEAKING ENGLISH?!” Alexis shouts, unexpectedly.

“I DON’T KNOW!” I shout back, also unexpectedly. “It’s like there’s a greater force at work that’s keeping me from fully integrating myself in Germany, as if I’m some sort of character in a story that’s written for an English-speaking audience, or something. Anyway, how can I help you, uh…?”

“Karl,” Karl says, rolling his eyes. “A Mr. Lucas rang for you, he wanted to ask you to check your emails.”

“Right, thank you,” I smile. “Silly question, I know, but why are you telling me this?”

“I’m your personal assistant! I have been for a year and a half!” Karl huffs, leaving the room and slamming the door behind him. I can feel Alexis staring daggers at me, but I refuse to make eye contact.

“It’s appalling that you keep forgetting Karl exists,” Alexis judges.

“As I’ve said previously, personal assistants have become a bit of a blind spot for me,” I grumble, waking my laptop with a wiggle of my mouse. “Right, who’s emailed me, then? It’s the international break, surely it’s nothing impor-” I freeze upon seeing the title of the third message from the top of my inbox.

“Are you planning on finishing that sentence, or shall I do it for you?” Alexis sniggers, before she presumably looks up as her tone softens. “Everything okay?” When I don’t respond, I hear Alexis stand and cross the office, appearing in my peripheral vision a moment later. “What’s up?” I point at the email.

​

“That’s interesting,” Alexis says. “Nice to know you’re wanted.” She slides the laptop across my desk and clicks ‘reply’.

“What are you doing?” I snap, yanking the machine back.

“Telling them you’re not interested,” Alexis says, looking at me like I’m a moron for not knowing.

“I need a moment to process, at least,” I suggest.

“No, you don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t you promise to stay for at least three years?” Alexis reminds me.

“Well… yes…”

“And did you not tell Kevin and Zlatan that you weren’t ready to return?”

“How do you know that?”

“Rumour travels fast,” Alexis dismisses. “Point is, I know it’s hard to do, but you need to turn this offer down.”

“Point taken,” I nod, accepting Alexis’ arguments. “It’s okay, I should do it.” Alexis smiles as I type out my reply to Birmingham’s board where I outline my reasoning behind declining their offer.

“Perfect,” Alexis says, patting my shoulder supportively. “Now, send it.”

I take a deep breath and click ‘send’, quickly closing my laptop once it’s done. “That was harder than I thought it’d be.”

“But you DID do it!” Alexis praises. “Let’s take your mind off of it. Are you prepared for the Wolfsburg game?”

“Which one?”

“The one that happens first.” There’s that ‘you’re a moron’ look again.

“Just checking,” I laugh, nervously. I spin around in my chair to look at my tactics whiteboard. “As they’re fourth, we’re going full-strength.”

“You’ve got Šarac starting at right centre-back ahead of Nianzou, though,” Alexis notes.

“I have,” I nod. “Tanguy’s not been at his best recently and Miloš has done well in his limited minutes, so I’m giving him a chance to prove himself. If it backfires, I’ll change it back for the rematch on the Wednesday.”

“Big call,” Alexis says, starting to head back to her desk.

“A day of them,” I chuckle. “Are you sure I can’t send Blues another email, even just to tell them I’ll think about it?”

“Nicole, if you do that, I’ll throw another stapler at you.”

​

With Bayern and Dortmund having both dropped points on Saturday, our first meeting with Die Wölfe in our doubleheader provides us with the opportunity to go top of the Bundesliga for the first time this season, however you wouldn’t know it from the totally lacklustre opening 43 minutes, at which point we take our opening shot of the game and Dominik Szoboszlai sums up our plight by nearly hitting the underside of the roof with his effort from six yards.

On the brink of half-time, however, something suddenly clicks. After a gorgeous build-up that included every one of my players making a successful pass, Manu Koné curls the ball out to the right-hand side of Wolfsburg’s penalty area where Tariq Lamptey has acres of space. He brings the ball down, takes two touches inside, then lashes a strike past Illan Meslier from 15 yards with his weaker foot to seize an unexpected advantage for us to take in at the interval.

Now we have the lead, our planning from earlier in the week for this very scenario can be put into action. We slowly lower our intensity, encouraging our visitors to do the opposite, and we tighten up, restricting them to low-quality efforts from range and failed attempts to break us down, all the while their energy being sapped as we conserve our own. Eventually, we reach the inevitable point of getting stodgy, closing out the final minutes in style by keeping hold of the ball and making Wolfsburg chase lost causes, giving us a huge boost ahead of the rematch as the flags fly with even more vigour than usual in the Nordkurve.

We go outright-top of the Bundesliga at last.

* * * * * * * *
​

Having beaten Wolfsburg at Borussia-Park on Sunday in the Bundesliga, it’s time to see if we can repeat the trick by beating Wolfsburg at Borussia-Park on Wednesday in the Champions League.

After giving those who started a rest from training in the days between our two fixtures, I decide to only make two changes for the rerun as Oliver Christensen fulfils his usual cup-goalie duties, while Pierre-Emile Højbjerg will deputise for Koné after the Frenchman pulled his hamstring towards the end of the last match.

​

Once again, it’s an opening period with a paucity of quality, though we manage to have the only telling bit of what’s on offer when Netz’s 40-yard run ends in a delightful cross that Szoboszlai can’t help but nod in from the penalty spot. Ordinarily, I’d be happy to squeeze out the points and call it a day, however the importance of goal difference has become very apparent ever since UEFA switched to the current format for its competitions and, as such, I offer my lads some ‘gentle’ encouragement to kick things into a higher gear in the second half.

For all of the ability in our team, however, it’s a nightmare eight minutes for Bright Arrey-Mbi that ends the contest. First, the centre-back does his utmost to prevent Lamptey’s cross from reaching Nicolò Tresoldi, only to stab past Meslier and into his own net, before he then sticks out an unfortunate leg for a second time, bringing down Wouter Burger with the ball pinging around in Wolfsburg’s area and handing us a penalty that Tresoldi duly dispatches.

Two victories from two games this week against Wolfsburg, and another Champions League victory that takes us into the all-important top eight, for the time being at least.

* * * * * * * *
​

As our third game in seven days arrives on Saturday, I decide to take a risk against ninth-placed Freiburg. Having given those that played Wednesday a break from training again, I decide to only make two changes again with Nürnberg to come on Tuesday as Kobel returns in goal and Nico Schlotterbeck starts on the left of our three centre-backs.

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

In a positive change from the last few games, we start like we have a point to prove, Tresoldi netting a penalty and Szoboszlai rifling a glorious free kick into the top-right corner from around 30 yards within the opening 20 minutes, before Matthias Ginter is forced off for our hosts soon after. Walk in the park, right?

Well, no.

I don’t know if Freiburg were motivated by losing one of their best players, if my boys decided they didn’t need to keep up the intensity, or a bit of both, but our control on the match starts to wane as our hosts turn up the heat, clawing a goal back for themselves shortly before the interval when Terem Moffi powers in at the back post from a corner, and our grip on the game seems to be slipping further when Højbjerg ends a counter being lead by Moffi by attempting to remove the lower half of the forward’s legs from behind. To the shock of absolutely nobody, the Dane receives a straight red for his troubles, though miraculously avoids criminal charges.

With us reduced to ten men, Freiburg sense blood, pushing hard for an equaliser and nearly finding one from another corner, but their enthusiasm would be their downfall. Leaving spaces open behind their full-backs is not the sort of behaviour we allow to go unpunished and, when possession gets turned over in the centre circle, Liam Heywood instantly sprays the ball to our right to unleash Lamptey, the Ghana international barrelling past Freiburg’s slow-to-react defence and cutting inside before bending into the bottom corner with the outside of his right foot, halting our opponents’ momentum and extinguishing the fire they’d shown to drag themselves back into proceedings, securing us a hard-earned three points.

* * * * * * * *
​

The annual tradition of our only midweek fixture in the Bundesliga has arrived for this season as relegation-zone-occupying Nürnberg make the long journey north-west on Tuesday night.

With the intensity of our recent schedule, this is the point where something’s got to give. As such, six changes are made to the side that started in Freiburg to keep the lineup fresh, faith placed in the abilities of a number of my squad players to get the job done.

​

“Shouldn’t we consider getting stodgy, gaffer?” Kevin asks from next to me in the dugout as injury time wears on, our slender 1-0 lead currently holding strong.

“I don’t think so, they’ve not been overly threatening,” I say. “Plus, we’ve been knocking on the door of adding a second.”

“She’s right,” Zlatan Bajramović agrees. “They’ve only had a single shot so far in the second half.”

“And it could take only one more shot for them to level,” Kevin argues. “Watch, here they come again.” As he gestures to the pitch, a Nürnberg cross is swung in from their right, but Abderrazak Talbi jumps highest and gets a good connection on the ball, heading it downfield with authority.

“Still need to win the second ball,” Kevin grumbles, a statement that is quickly followed by Tresoldi dropping deep and cushioning the airborne clearance on his chest, before bringing it under his control with his feet.

“Danger’s not gone yet,” Kevin states, without so much conviction this time, and rightly so as Tresoldi looks up and drifts a measured pass over the backline of Der Altmeister that Lindstrøm bursts onto from midfield, now clean through on goal.

“Might not score,” Kevin mumbles, very quietly, at which point Lindstrøm slows down, composing himself as he enters the box, before confidently stroking past Tim Schreiber and into the bottom corner.

I turn to Kevin, smug grin on my face, which is welcomed with the only response I could’ve expected:

“Lucky git.”

* * * * * * * *
​

“Perfect, thanks for that, Jack. Speak to you soon,” I say, hanging up the phone.

“You sound cheerful,” Alexis smiles, having just entered our office.

“I am,” I beam. “That was my agent, they’ve negotiated a new contract for me that’ll be ready to sign this afternoon, then announced tomorrow.”

Alexis slumps into her chair and lets out an enormous groan.

“What? Not happy I’m staying?”

“Not that, I’m thrilled about that, it’s just that you have us next and we could have done without your squad getting a huge morale boost like this,” she says. “I am happy for you, though. What do you think prompted them to offer you a new deal?”

“I’d guess it was Blues offering me an interview, can’t say for sure,” I shrug.

“Even though they’ve just appointed Marcelo Gallardo?” Alexis asks.

“Fear can be a powerful motivator,” I note. “Even just another club showing interest in me could be enough to force their hand. It’s probably the reason they were willing to double my wage, too.”

“VERY nice,” Alexis nods, looking impressed. “Now you’re locked in for the long run, you don’t have to rush winning everything again now, right?”

“Lexi, I’m not going to play a weak team against Frankfurt for you just because I’ve signed a new four-and-a-half-year contract, I’m picking the strongest lineup possible, though I’m trusting Gustavo Gallardo ahead of Pierre-Emile after his lunacy against Freiburg,” I say.

“Wow, you think somebody’s your friend, then they go and betray you like this,” Alexis sighs.

“I’ve not betrayed you, Lexi.”

“Yes, you have, and you’ll suffer for it, starting on the Borussia-Park pitch this Sunday.”

​

It’s looking likely to be another successful day when, in the sixth minute, Szoboszlai collects the ball in the centre circle and goes on a mazy run, surging past every Eintracht Frankfurt player in front of him until he’s into their penalty area, at which point he drills past Noah Atubolu to score one of the best individual-goals since my arrival in Germany, however, the elation doesn’t last long when former-Fohl Marcus Thuram flicks in Sergio Carreira’s low cross from the right, and all the quality evaporates from our play faster than the weather changes in Britain when someone says ‘maybe we should have a barbecue’.

With the pattern of mediocrity not breaking by half-time, I decide to switch to a 4-3-3 to try and spark some creativity. As I explain the adjustments to my players, I spot a concerned look on Alexis’ face out of the corner of my eye - she saw what happened to Werder last time we did this.

Instantly, we look like a different team, and it takes fewer than three minutes for Tresoldi to poke us back into the lead, before he later flicks Szoboszlai’s ball inside from the left wing past Atubolu for another. Now totally dominant, we go close to adding a fourth a couple of times in a chaotic minute that sees Jan Boller block Szoboszlai’s shot at a near-empty net and Krystian Bielik have a header cleared off the line at the resultant corner, but it’s not long before we have the clincher as Tresoldi converts a Šarac cross to complete his hat-trick and round out an utterly irresistible closing period from my boys.

​

Back in the dressing room, I shoot Alexis a semi-apologetic smile. “Bad luck, Lexi. Only a month until you get a chance at redemption in the Pokal.”

“Great, can’t wait,” Alexis grumbles.

“Come on, there’s got to be at least a small part of you that’s pleased with what we’re achieving here, right?” I ask, sitting next to her on the bench.

“Well, a large part of me is currently an infuriated fan of Die Adler, but how can the rest not be proud of what we’re doing, as a Borussia Mönchengladbach employee?” Alexis says, managing a small laugh. “A treble last season, the SuperCup this, top of the Bundesliga, and looking likely to qualify for the Champions League knockouts in the first season back. Add to that the unbeaten record at Borussia-Park that you’ve held for a year and a half, plus the fact that you now seem to have discovered a second tactic to break down teams that come to frustrate you, making facing Die Fohlen even more terrifying than before.

“Let’s face it, Nicole: why would anyone want to be anywhere else right now?”

* * * * * * * *​

Thank you for reading! A link to my socials and my previous story can be found on my Linktree, and please follow the thread to be updated every time there's a new post!

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Part Eighteen​

Welcome back to Foal From Grace and happy Pride month! Injuries, late drama, and coats leave this week's episode brimming with excitement.

This part is spread across multiple posts, so make sure to catch all six games!

Series Links

​

“Here you go, chief, get that down ya,” Kevin Nolan says, sitting down opposite me in our hotel’s restaurant in Azerbaijan and sliding a very dark, very opaque coffee across the table, along with a small bowl of blueberries.

“Thanks, Kevin, but I think I’m alright,” I say, wearily.

“Come on, we all know how tired you feel after travelling,” Zlatan Bajramović smiles, sliding into the chair next to Kevin’s. “That’ll perk you up, get you ready for the evening meeting.”

“I’d forgotten about the meeting,” I sigh. “Okay, fine.” I eat a couple of blueberries before taking a sip of the coffee, nearly gagging in the process. “Cor, Kev, this is strong.”

“It looked like you were about to pass out over here in the corner, so I just kept pressing the button for espressos until the cup was full,” Kevin shrugs. “Figured you’d be ready to go in no time.”

“I appreciate the gesture, but I did have plans on sleeping at some point tonight, you know?” I laugh.

“You’re a football manager, you don’t sleep,” Kevin scoffs. “You keep powering through on naps until you get sacked, retire, or your heart gives out.”

“It’s the main reason I’m happy as an assistant, for now,” Zlatan nods. “Enough responsibility to feel I’m making a difference, not enough to keep me up at night.”

“Can’t lie, I do miss sleeping properly,” I say. “That said, I probably get more than you realise.”

“What, five hours?”

“Never mind, that’s on me, I should have established what your guesses would be first,” I mumble. “I don’t come across as constantly tired, do I?”

“Not really, you’re a bit crabby sometimes, but nothing out of the ordinary for a manager,” Kevin says.

“If anything, you’re unusually cheery by industry standards,” Zlatan adds.

“That’s good to hear,” I chuckle. “I always thought I came across as pretty miserable.”

“You have your moments,” Kevin winks, making me grin. “Don’t worry though, boss, they’re few and far between. Impactful, but uncommon.”

“My tirades aren’t THAT big a deal, are they?” I ask

“Gesture for Daz to come over here,” Kevin smirks. I oblige, getting the attention of Dan-Axel Zagadou on the other side of the room, making the Frenchman’s face drop as he goes pale, standing and making his way over to us.

“Y-Y-Yes, Trainerin?” Dan-Axel stammers.

“Just wanted to say that I appreciate you dropping your concerns over being denied a move to Man City, your conduct and performances have been much better recently,” I praise.

“Oh, thank you,” Dan-Axel says, eyes darting from side to side. “Anything else I can do? I can sign another contract on reduced terms, if that would please you?”

“That won’t be necessary, Dan-Axel, but thank you. You can go back to your teammates now,” I say. The centre-back nods and scurries away as I turn back to my assistants. “Okay, maybe I have quite an explosive temper sometimes.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Kevin sniggers. “As I said: impactful. No one wants to get on your bad side.”

“Neither of you seem to mind being a pain in my backside, though,” I mock.

“We’re paid to challenge you, otherwise you’d be just as well off with a cardboard cutout of Bruce Willis to talk to,” Zlatan says.

“That’s a good point, I could save a lot of money by replacing you with inanimate objects,” I say, a pretend-thoughtful look on my face.

“Don’t even joke, gaffer, you know I have insecurity and imposter-syndrome issues,” Kevin pleads.

“Who says I’m joking?” I tease, at which point I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Can I talk to you for a second please, Nicole? Alexis Geiler says.

“Sure thing,” I say, grabbing my coffee and fruit as I follow her to a quiet corner. “Blueberry?”

“No, thank you, I’m allergic,” Alexis says.

“I didn’t know,” I admit. “I’ll try not to breathe on you, then.”

“Please, this is already uncomfortably close,” Alexis grimaces, roughly a metre and a half away from me.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing major, I just struggle to feel heard in groups,” she says. “I wanted to check in, I know you find travelling difficult.”

“I didn’t realise this was such common knowledge,” I laugh. “I’m doing okay, thank you. Kevin’s filled me with enough caffeine and fruit to fuel me for the next week.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re being looked after,” Alexis smiles. “Speaking of, I wanted to see if Beth and you would be free this evening for a brief tour of Baku? I came here after my second year of university for a holiday with my family, so I thought I could show you both the sights, something that feels like the type of job a Head of International Managerial Affairs could be taking on, after all.”

“Well, Beth’s getting herself comfortable in our room at the moment, but I’m sure she’d be as interested as I am,” I beam. Alexis’ face lights up. “Once we’ve had our evening briefing, we’ll be good to go - as long as you don’t mind missing movie night.”

“I’ve designed this tour to fit exactly in the space between the meeting ending and the movie starting, including allowing time for you getting distracted, as usual,” Alexis explains.

“I don’t get distracted THAT often, Lexi,” I frown. “In fact, the last time I was distracted was probably… actually, I’m not sure. Maybe it was the time… no, that wasn’t it. Perhaps it was during preseason? In fact, do you remember how our preseason went?”

“Nicole?”

“Yep, I noticed it.”

“Great. So, get Beth to meet us after the briefing and we'll head straight out.” Alexis makes to walk off, but pauses and turns back. “By the way, what movie is it you’ve planned for tonight?”

“Oh, I’m not sure, actually. Hang on,” I say. I look over my shoulder towards my squad. “Boys, any preference over movie tonight? We could start the Fast & Furious franchise, if you’d like, it’ll keep us going for a few months?”

“No way, I lost interest when they called it ‘Fast X’, not ‘Fast-Ten Your Seatbelts’,” Krystian Bielik shouts back.

“Okay then, how about Moana?”

“Now you’re TALKING, BOSS!” Krystian shouts, high-fiving Manu Koné as the rest of the team celebrate in a similarly exuberant manner. I turn back to face Alexis.

“Maybe, one day, I’ll completely understand how these men work.”

​

With Qarabağ struggling in the Champions League so far, I have a great deal of confidence that even a heavily rotated lineup from the Frankfurt match will be capable of getting the job done at the Tofiq Bähramov adina Respublika Stadionu, confidence that seems well placed when we reach the interval a goal to the good, courtesy of a Zagadou header at a corner, and without having faced a single shot. The difficulty with not killing a game early, however, is that you allow your opponents to believe they have the chance to get back into the match, something that proves to be the case when our hosts win a penalty against the run of play that Gaspar Panadero converts, frustratingly levelling after Qarabağ offered so little up to that point.

In retaliation to our hosts’ goal, I switch our shape to our new 4-3-3, and we instantly carry much more threat offensively, Miloš Šarac finishing a nice one-two with Emil Holm out on the right to restore our lead within ten minutes, before Jesper Lindstrøm completes a lovely move to double our advantage soon after. At this stage, it could be reasonably be asked why I haven’t made the 4-3-3 our default setup, given how much it improves our attack, and the answer to that is simple: with how offensive our full-backs are, it leaves us at high risk of being torn apart by counter-attacks, something that our hosts demonstrate well when they carve through my marooned centre-backs on the break, forcing Oliver Christensen into a terrific one-on-one save to prevent Qarabağ from finding their way back into the game again.

Scare avoided, it’s not long before the our high press forces our now-exhausted hosts into giving up possession too easily when Liam Heywood intercepts a poor clearance 25 yards from goal, drives into the box, and spanks into the top-right corner, effectively ending the rout and sealing the points to put us in a strong position with a quarter of our league-phase fixtures remaining as we attempt to finish in the Champions League’s top eight.

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

After several years of moderate success, Vincent Kompany’s inability to keep RB Leipzig out of the bottom half of the Bundesliga this season cost him his job during the last international break, being replaced by Zinedine Zidane who has overseen… well, pretty much no change in results, so far.

Despite their indifferent form, I’ll be naming a fairly strong lineup to take on the East Germans, though Zagadou misses out with a bruised knee and Wouter Burger is rested after his efforts on Wednesday, with Nico Schlotterbeck and Heywood being brought in to replace them.

​

I burst into the dressing room within moments of the final whistle, slightly out of breath after running down the tunnel at a speed much higher than I’d normally be willing to let people see, making a beeline for the physiotherapy bed that Bielik is lying on.

“What’s the assessment? Are you okay?”

“Not too bad, it’s only -”

“Oh, golly, it’s not your knee again, is it?” I whine. “I don’t think I could handle you being out for that long. Would you even keep playing?”

“Did we win, at least?” Krystian asks.

“Yeah, 3-1. Galindo had a shocker in goal for them,” I say, waving away something I deem unimportant to return to the matter at hand. “Look, I’m not a religious woman, but I’ll start praying, if that’s what it takes to get you fit again.”

“You don’t need to pray, it’s nothi-”

“What’s the point, anymore?” I interrupt, again. “If you’re out for the long term, there’s no way we’ll win the Cha-”

“NICOLE!” Krystian shouts, making me jump.

“You’ve never called me by my first name before…” I mumble.

“You’ve never been this hysterical,” Krystian replies. “Stop worrying, I’ve only twisted my ankle.”

“Oh, so you’ll -”

“Only miss the next game, then I should be ready to go after the winter break,” Krystian nods.

“That’s good,” I whisper, feeling myself blush. I look down at the floor to hide my reddening face. “Glad it’s nothing serious…”

“You seem to care pretty deeply for Krystian,” Head Physio Hendrick Schreiber observes.

“We’ve been through a lot together,” I smile, looking back up. “He’s my main man, I love him.” Krystian pulls a slightly concerned face. “Not romantically, Krystian, you muppet. People can say ‘I love you’ platonically.”

“That’s a relief,” Krystian sighs. “Also, I’m not convinced they can, gaffer.”

“Well, I just did, so deal with that however you want,” I laugh.

“I’ll pretend that you never said it.”

“Fair enough.”

* * * * * * * *
​

Holding their own in 13th after their promotion in the spring, Bochum are the side placed in front of us as our final challenge of 2027, where we know a win will see us enter the new year top of the Bundesliga.

With a free midweek after the Leipzig match, and the winter break to come immediately after, I’m presented with the opportunity to name a near-full-strength eleven without fear of fitness-based consequences, meaning Zagadou and Burger are restored, while there’s a first start for the promising Franky Hilgers since returning from loan at his previous club, Oud-Heverlee Leuven in Belgium, the promising, six-foot-five-inch defensive midfielder given the big responsibility of filling in for Bielik at the base of our midfield.

​

Despite the quality of the team picked, we really struggle to get going and, the couple of times we do, we’re denied by either the offside flag or Stefan Ortega, so it’s another switch to the 4-3-3 at the interval.

Our alternative tactic seems to be losing some of its power, however. Whilst yes, Nicolò Tresoldi does get the goal we desire after lashing in Dominik Szoboszlai’s deflected cross from the left, and yes, Bochum continue to offer very little threat, the second-half thumpings that we’d started to hand out are notable by their absence as, for the first time in a while, precautionary stodge is required.

Regardless of how the three points came, however, I’m delighted they did as, in the final game before the Bundesliga’s winter break kicks in, Dortmund make a huge statement of intent by handing Bayern their first loss of the season at the Westfalenstadion.

Turns out, the Bavarians aren’t invincible.

And they’ll be spending the next three weeks four points adrift of us at the top of the table.

* * * * * * * *
​

“How’re things shaping up for your first game back tomorrow?” Beth asks me as we sit in bed on Friday morning.

“Pretty nicely,” I say, putting down my book. “We’ve had Nelson Weiper leave to PSV in the Netherlands for €62 million, despite the fact he’s barely played this season, then used some of that money to bring Joe Scally back to the club from Hull and to extend both Edwin and Dominik’s contracts. Add Krystian coming back to fitness, along with Gregor being voted World Goalkeeper of the Year, and it’s all looking pretty rosey, apart from Manu being suspended, but I can’t have everything going my way.”

​

“You could have stopped at ‘pretty nicely’, to be honest,” Beth says with a slight laugh.

“You know I have a compulsive need to share as much information as possible,” I murmur.

“It’s fine, Nicole, I’m only teasing,” Beth says, patting my leg affectionately. “Where does Joe play?”

“Right wing-back,” I answer. “He’s not much of an upgrade on Emil, but being a homegrown Fohl would allow me to register an extra non-homegrown player for our Champions League squad, should anyone leave.”

“I presume you’re planning on selling Emil then, correct?” Beth queries.

“Uuuuummmm…” I think back to the conversation I had with Emil this week where I told him we were looking to move him on to a new club, likely to be PSV too as they seem desperate to give us as much money for players we don’t want as possible, at which point he broke down in tears and I awkwardly shuffled out of the room. “Probably, I think he’d be open to leaving.”

​

It’s a slow start as both teams try to shake out the cobwebs from the winter break, but a controversial decision to award Bayer Leverkusen a penalty for an alleged trip by Edwin Zamudio on Marcos Leonardo sparks the game into life. On this occasion, though, justice is served when Lee Kang-in’s strike sails over the crossbar.

With the energy increased, both sides start creating more chances, and we’re the ones to make the breakthrough when Šarac clatters in a header from a corner on the eve of half-time, before Tresoldi doubles our advantage soon after the restart, putting us into a commanding position.

Try as they might, Leverkusen simply can’t recover. By the time they do finally breach our backline in injury time and Moussa Diaby blasts past Gregor Kobel, the Frenchman’s effort is ruled out as a result of him being offside, a perfect cue for us to get stodgy and end the contest, also ending Brendan Rodgers’ tenure at the BayArena in the process.

I’m unintentionally making a habit of getting managers sacked.

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

“You can’t wear that, Lexi,” I say as we board our coach.

“Why not? It’s meant to be below freezing tomorrow night in Frankfurt,” Alexis frowns.

“You know perfectly well why not, because we’ll look like absolute pillocks if we turn up at Deutsche Bank Park and it turns out one of my support staff has Die Adler’s badge on their coat,” I scowl back. “What happened to the one the club provided for you?”

“Lost it,” she shrugs with enough confidence to fool most, but not me at this point. She quickly cracks under my glare. “Urgh, FINE. I haven’t, there are just certain lines that I refuse to cross, and wearing another team’s crest at my home stadium is one of them.”

“Why not wear one without EITHER club’s emblem?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m a simple woman, at times. I like football, I wear football stuff,” Alexis says.

“Even when going out somewhere fancy?” I ask.

“If it’s a date, then absolutely,” Alexis nods. “Helps weed out all the bigots and Kaiserslautern fans. I do have one other warm coat, I suppose,” she adds.

“Is it work appropriate?”

“Oh, gosh, no,” Alexis laughs, shaking her head. “Unless you want me looking like Cruella de Vil.”

“Not really,” I sigh. “Well, we’ll have to buy you a new coat when we get to Frankfurt, and you can take that off when we get there,” I continue, waving Alexis onto the coach.

“What if I don’t want to buy one?” she asks as she steps aboard.

“Then you don’t get to come with us to the match,” I answer.

“And if I want to come to the match?”

“You buy a new coat,” I say as we both sit down in the front row. “This is a pretty clear ‘option A or option B’ scenario.”

“Is there an option C?” Alexis queries.

“Option C is you stay at home and keep up with the match on the TV,” I snap.

“Great, it's like I’m living in East Berlin in the ‘70s.”

​

“I can’t believe how much we’ve struggled to perform in the Pokal this season,” Zlatan grumbles, sitting next to me in the dugout with under a minute remaining of added time, the game still goalless. “There’s no logic to it. You’ve even named a strong team tonight, they just haven’t shown up like in either of the other two rounds.”

“In fairness, it’s mainly been down to one person underperforming today,” Kevin chuckles from my other side. He looks down the bench at Nicolò Tresoldi. “How many chances did you miss today, Nik? Including the penalty and the time you punched the ball in?” Nicolò mutters something in Italian that none of us can translate, however we all completely understood at the same time.

“Maybe don’t go insulting our top scorer?” I suggest. “Especially when the guy we brought on to replace him isn’t having the game of his life…” As I speak, Mark Barber loses the ball and it gets lumped towards our goal, though Zamudio wins the aerial duel.

“Mark’ll come good, he’s a top lad,” Kevin smiles as Šarac picks up the loose ball and steams forward, but his lifted attempt at picking out Lindstrøm is intercepted and headed high in the air by Sergio Carreira.

“Are you just saying that because he’s English?” I grin.

“No, I’m saying it because he’s a top lad,” Kevin repeats.

As the ball drops, Šarac leaps highest to nod the ball forwards and, as it comes down again, Barber chests it into his path and rifles into the bottom-left corner from the edge of the area first time.

The bench empties around me as almost everybody sprints down the touchline to celebrate, albeit Tresoldi a little belatedly and sheepishly, leaving just Alexis and me. I walk over to my colleague, who’s just pulled the oversized hood of her new, charcoal-coloured coat over her face, and give her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Sorry, Lexi. Hope this won’t ruin the atmosphere for your family dinner.”

“Don’t worry,” Alexis says, her voice muffled through the fabric. “As far as they’re aware, I’m sick.”

* * * * * * * *
​

After the late drama in Frankfurt, I’m hoping that second-bottom Hoffenheim, with newly-appointed Murat Yakin at the helm, will provide a much more comfortable experience for us back home on Sunday.

Given the struggles our visitors have had since often-wobbly Emanuel Aiwu’s departure for Birmingham, I feel happy to rest a few of our regulars, whilst Barber gets the nod over Tresoldi after the Italian’s atypically shambolic performance during the week.

​

Szoboszlai’s tendency to spank free kicks in from any and all ranges is on full display again when he opens the scoring early on from 25 yards, and barely five minutes have passed before we’re converting from a set piece again, this time Abderrazak Talbi getting off the mark for the club by glancing in Robin Gosen’s inswinging corner. We look comfortable, we look in control, we’re not overly bothered by Barber having a goal disallowed for offside as it looks likely that Hoffenheim will roll over for us, but then we get unexpectedly ripped apart on the counter as half-time draws near and Christoph Baumgartner halves the deficit.

It’s a slightly uncomfortable team talk for me as I try and judge whether to stick or twist, eventually deciding to implore my players to restore our lead and a sense of dominance, a decision that pays off when Szoboszlai adds his second free kick of the game, this time hitting an absolute rocket into the top-left corner from within the D to vaporise our visitors ambitions of pulling level and seal the victory that keeps us four points clear at the top of the Bundesliga.

Question is, just how much longer can we keep Bayern at bay?

* * * * * * * *​

Thank you for reading! A link to my socials and my previous story can be found on my Linktree, and please follow the thread to be updated every time there's a new post!

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Part Nineteen​

Welcome back to Foal From Grace and happy Pride month! Some big teams, some not so big teams, but six very important matches in the context of our season.

This part is spread across multiple posts, so make sure to catch all six games!

Series Links

​

I have a genuine sense of happiness as I walk back to my office after training on Tuesday. We’ve prepared as much as possible for our Champions League match against Tottenham tomorrow and, for the first time since I became a football manager, Beth’s spending time at my workplace, getting some of her own work done somewhere quieter while we have our bathroom renovated. Very kindly, Alexis Geiler offered to stay with her for the day and keep her company.

It’s only upon opening the door to my office and it taking the pair all of three seconds to lose their composure and burst out laughing that I realise it was, perhaps, not ideal that the two people who spend the most one-to-one time with me were left alone together.

“Something funny?” I ask after standing in the doorway for about a minute.

“Just you, my love, just you,” Beth giggles, wiping away tears. “Do you really make some of your players cry when you get angry?”

“Only sometimes,” I mumble. “Sometimes they cry because they don’t really want to leave, like Emil Holm. That didn’t last, though, €30 million for us and guarantees of regular football for him did the business.”

“Yet, apparently, you’re nowhere near as bossy at home?” Alexis titters.

“No, she’s much scarier than me,” I answer, gesturing to my wife and making them both snigger again.

“I find that hard to believe, Nicole, Beth’s always been a delight around me,” Alexis says.

“She normally is, but she definitely carries an aura of threat when you irritate her,” I reply.

“And is that often?”

“I don’t think so.” Beth raises an eyebrow. “Okay, fine, yes: I’m very irritating to live with.”

“That’s a little harsh on yourself,” Beth smiles, “you’re only fairly irritating to live with.”

“Beth and I have been sharing stories about you today,” Alexis grins.

“Oh, good,” I grimace.

“I didn’t realise you do that thing where, regardless of how long you’ve been doing a task and how much you’ve done, when someone asks for you you’ll tell them you’re ‘nearly finished’ here too,” Beth winks.

“Or that you click the top of your pen against the side of your head at home while you’re thinking,” Alexis adds.

“Or that you forget about things and people as soon as you can’t see them anymore at work as well,” Beth continues.

“Hey, that one’s not fair, I have difficulties with object permanence,” I interject. “Didn’t you come here to be productive?”

“I have been,” Beth says. “I now know all about the side of you I don’t get to see on a regular basis.”

“Likewise,” Alexis beams. “Do you really still tell people that your proudest achievement in football was winning the Conference League with Cork City on Football Manager 2022?”

“Not anymore,” I frown.

“Do you actually start training by quoting Shrek?” Beth asks.

“‘Some of you may die, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make’,” I confirm.

“And what about this story I’ve heard about you getting the capital of Ireland wrong?” Alexis asks.

I can feel myself start to blush.

“So, possibly the most embarrassed I’ve felt in my life is when I was on a school trip and was answering trivia questions, trying to do it quickly to impress a girl I had a crush on as I used to be a little too overconfident in my brain to always pick out the right answer,” I explain. “That’s when I was asked what the capital of Ireland was, to which I loudly and confidently answered ‘Berlin’.” Both the women howl with laughter again. “I was going fast, I got it confused with Belfast!” I whinge.

“But that’s NORTHERN Ireland!” Alexis shrieks, laughing even harder.

“I’m aware of that, but I was 14 and nervous!”

“Still old enough to know the difference between Berlin and Dublin, especially for someone as nerdy as you,” Beth manages to force out through uncontrollable fits of giggles.

“It’s about 1,317.8 kilometres, if you’re wondering,” Zlatan Bajramović says from behind me, making me jump. “You did say distance, right?”

“How long have you been there? How much have you heard?” I interrogate.

“Only what Beth just said about Berlin and Dublin,” Zlatan says. “Come on, Roland’s called us in for an impromptu meeting.”

“I presume it’s about William Wight, the winger we were hoping to sign from New York City for about €10 million euros and loan back for two seasons?” I suggest.

“Probably,” Zlatan says. “Let’s go find out.” With that he walks off down the hall and I turn to join him.

“Wait, Nicole, one last thing.”

“Yes, Lexi?”

“This girl you liked, how did it go?”

“Given I’m married to Beth and you know we met at work ten years ago, I’ll let you take a wild guess.”

​

Five shots totalling 0.21 xG between the two teams in the first half leaves me fearing yet another dull game against English opposition, but Miloš Šarac steering Tariq Lamptey’s drilled cross past Diogo Costa after an initial corner was cleared seems to suddenly make everything click.

Spurs try and make themselves more compact to prevent us adding a second, but all that does is allow our wing-backs the freedom to rampage down the flanks, their directness causing all sorts of problems, and the pair are influential in extending our advantage as it’s Lamptey’s floated cross that Costa fumbles to allow Luca Netz to lash into the vacated goal, before Tariq then adds a goal of his own when sent through by Pierre-Emile Højbjerg, squeezing in from the tightest of angles to seal the points and put us in a strong position to secure our passage to the last 16.

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[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Sandwiched between our final league-phase fixtures in the Champions League, the Bundesliga’s basement club St. Pauli provide a welcome respite when they travel to Borussia-Park at the weekend.

Given the relative ease - at least, in theory - of our challenge when compared to those either side of the weekend, I feel comfortable with making wholesale changes as only Edwin Zamudio, Dan-Axel Zagadou, and Manu Koné are retained from the lineup that prevailed over Spurs.

​

After taking a while to find our rhythm, we soon start to get into the groove and take control of the game. As we near the 30-minute mark, Joe Scally marauds half of the length of the pitch down the right and feeds a pinpoint pass to Koné on the edge of the D which the Frenchman is all too happy to rifle into the bottom-left corner, causing several minutes of mayhem in the St. Paul backline that culminates in Liam Heywood being tripped in the area to win a penalty that Jesper Lindstrøm converts, sending Loris Karius the wrong way in the process.

We slowly ease off as we aim to conserve our energy for Wednesday night and, aside from a pair of terrific blocks from Zamudio and Nico Schlotterbeck on Jardell Kanga and Asier Villalibre respectively, our visitors offer little threat. As time ebbs away, I inevitably decide to get stodgy in an attempt to kill the game, a plan that works so well, Gustavo Gallardo heads in a Heywood flick at a corner to stretch our lead to three and round out the scoring.

At last, Gregor Kobel has a clean sheet against St. Pauli.

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​

As our final game in the poorly-thought-out shambles that is the Champions League league phase arrives, the scenario is clear: avoid defeat, we’re definitely through to the last 16. Lose? Well, it’s still pretty unlikely we’ll drop into the play-off spots, but I don’t fancy leaving that up to fate. Standing in our way of progression? Jürgen Klopp’s Paris Saint-Germain at the Parc des Princes.

Since the German took over in the summer, having walked away from the Liverpool job immediately after losing to Birmingham for the second Champions League final in a row, he’s found it difficult to get a tune out of his expensively assembled squad on the European stage. That said, both Krystian Bielik and I still have nightmares from facing Les Parisiens during our days at Blues, so we’ll be taking nothing for granted in France, naming the strongest-possible outfield in front of cup-goalie Oliver Christensen and praying to a deity I’m not convinced exists that we can stride into the last 16 with our dignity intact and without having conceded upwards of three goals this time.

​

“You seem to have mellowed quite a bit since we last met, Jürgen,” I state, joining the PSG manager in his office after our drab 0-0 draw that confirmed our passage into the knockouts as one of the top eight, bypassing the play-off round.

“It’s Paris,” he says, flashing that famous, toothy grin. “Fine wines, sensational food, and knowing that most of my players will do whatever the heck they want once on the pitch, so there’s little point in stressing over the details.”

“Probably helps when you’ve got practically no opposition for the Ligue 1 title,” I chuckle.

“Hey, Monaco are a serious threat,” Jürgen snaps.

“Okay, okay, I apologise,” I say, putting my hands up. Clearly, I touched a nerve. “I have to ask, why didn’t you go for it a bit more tonight? I had expected to get slapped about like when I last played PSG.”

“We were guaranteed to finish in the play-off spots, so there didn’t seem much point in trying too hard,” Jürgen admits. “Looked like your boys were happy to settle for the point you needed too, no?”

“They were, I wasn’t,” I sigh. “I think they were too focussed on not conceding that they forgot to attack. It’s a shame, I’d have liked the extra €2 million that comes from turning a draw into a win in this competition.”

“Ha! I remember when I used to worry about earning as much prize money as possible in a sustainable model,” Jürgen laughs. “Now it’s just wondering where the next sponsorship from the country that owns the club is going to pop up to bankroll the success.”

“I must say, Jürgen, this job doesn’t seem to fit very well with your morals, or be the type of club you’d associate yourself with usually,” I observe. “Don’t you feel like you’ve sold out a little?”

“Sometimes, but I’ve worked out a way of coping,” Jürgen says.

“How so?”

“I just tell myself that none of this is real and I’m simply a character in a simulation.”

“Stop being ridiculous, Jürgen.”

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​

With our record-setting winning run brought to a halt on Wednesday, an excellent opportunity to start a new one presents itself on Saturday when we travel to face second-bottom Schalke.

With Miroslav Klose recently appointed, I’m not entirely sure what to expect. In light of this, and with a week between this fixture and our next, I decide to keep rotation at a minimum, restoring Kobel in goal and bringing Robin Gosens and Mark Barber in for Luca Netz, who’s carrying a slight knock, and Nicolò Tresoldi.

​

Despite resting those who played midweek from physical training ahead of this match, we’re disappointingly lethargic and uninspired throughout the first half, barely creating anything ourselves and having to be bailed out by Kobel at the other end when he makes a terrific save from a Sékou Mara header from three yards out, before the forward lets us off the hook big time by smashing his follow-up shot against the post and out for a goal kick whilst our ‘keeper was sprawled on the ground.

As has become a habit recently, however, everything changes once we switch to the 4-3-3 at half-time.

Within three minutes of the restart, Dominik Szoboszlai’s attempted cut-back from the left byline is turned into his own net by Nico Altvater and we only grow in influence from there, going close as Šarac is denied by Marius Müller and Bielik hits the underside of the bar from 30 yards, only to see his effort bounce off the line and out again, all the while our hosts gradually losing steam. Sure enough, our superiority shows as the clock winds down when Tresoldi heads in the dagger at a free kick, confirming victory after an impressive closing period.

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[Chonky Panda Tactics]

“I’m not quite sure about this, boys,” I say to my assistants in the office adjoining our dressing room at Borussia-Park.

“Drawing Mainz in the Pokal?” Kevin Nolan checks. “I’m sure we’ll get past them, they’re not that big a threat.”

​

“No, not that,” I huff. “I meant this team talk. I’ve always bigged Bayern up as the final boss, the eternal favourites, the dark shadow looming over our ambitions, but after they only picked up one point from their last two games… I think we should be expecting to win today.”

“I agree,” Zlatan says.

“As do I,” Kevin adds.

“Yet, at the same time, I’m still absolutely terrified of them,” I admit.

“Likewise,” Kevin nods.

“Me too,” Zlatan states.

“So, as you can imagine, I’m not really sure how to approach this,” I say.

Both my assistants furrow their brows as they think about what to suggest, Kevin eventually breaking the silence. “Just follow your gut. Channel those emotions. You already know we both feel the same way as you, it’s pretty likely a lot of the boys share these views too.”

“Just start talking and it’ll flow,” Zlatan says. “Trust yourself, and trust them to listen.”

“You’re right. Truth and trust,” I nod, taking a deep breath and walking across the room before knocking on the door. “Are you all decent?” I shout through the wood, hearing lots of shouts of ‘yes’ in reply, so I join my team again. “We’re going to do something a bit different today,” I say, “so I want you to all stand up and join me in a huddle.” My players murmur to each other before doing as I request.

“This is a bit friendly, boss,” Krystian says.

“Yes, well, I’m about to open up to you a little and felt it would have a lot more impact like this.” Most of the lads nod, smile, or both. “When I joined the club at the start of last season, I was a little apprehensive at first because of what had happened the previous campaign, but I could soon see the foundations were solid and the potential was there to quickly bounce back from that rough season. My entire ambition was to establish us as the second-best club in Germany as quickly as possible, and hope to push on to challenge Bayern within a few years.

“What we achieved as a group last term blew my mind. I hoped that, maybe, we’d win the Europa League or DFB-Pokal, but there was no expectation, and I thought winning the Bundesliga was beyond our wildest dreams, so the fact we won ALL THREE was… I don’t even know what to say, it still leaves me speechless to think about it.

“I thought that there was a chance we’d just gotten lucky, but we’ve reached February and you’ve already swanned through to the Champions League knockouts without losing, you’re still fighting in the cup, and you’re pulling away from Bayern once again - who’d have seriously thought we’d be NINE points clear at this point?!

“What I’m trying to say, guys, is that I am so immensely proud of you all. You’ve surpassed my expectations of you at every step of our journey, and you’ve never stopped giving it your all. So, and it feels silly that I think I even need to ask, I want you to go out there and just show everybody what you’re capable of again. They’re not the team they once were. They're here for the taking. You are the treble winners. You are the team unbeaten at Borussia-Park for a year and a half. YOU are the best darn side in this country - so go and prove it.”

The bell to signal that the players need to make their way to the tunnel sounds, but I wait for it to stop ringing so I can say one final thing.

“Eat them alive, boys.”

The collective roar that fills the room feels powerful enough to rattle the entire stadium and the squad appear more amped up than I’ve ever seen them, so much so that Krystian flings open the door to the tunnel with enough force to make a hole in the wall, but nobody bats an eye.

All that matters is the imminent battle.

​

It’s like my men are a swarm of wasps and Bayern have just gotten out of a bath filled with jam.

Our intensity from the off is in stark contrast to our visitors’ and, deafened by the cacophony of noise from all around them, they completely fall to pieces under our pressure. We’re tougher in the tackle, better on the ball, and simply want it more than Bayern, and nothing could make me happier than seeing Bielik barge Dani Olmo off the ball in our defensive third to set into motion a wonderfully intricate two-minute spell of possession that Wouter Burger finishes off by rifling in from the edge of the area, before Szoboszlai makes it two about ten minutes before the break when one-on-one with Marc-Andre ter Stegen.

Bayern only manage a solitary, low-quality shot in the first half, but that’s still more than they register in the second, their entire plan to get back into the game that was, presumably, cooked up at half-time thrown straight out of the window by Szoboszlai bagging his brace 14 seconds after play resumes to make our lead completely unassailable for the Bavarians. They give up, and we’re very happy to cruise through the remainder of the game.

An absolute demolition of Germany’s crumbling dynasty to send us 12 points clear at the top.

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​

With that huge win stretching our lead at the peak of the Bundesliga into double digits, I’m hoping not to be brought back down to earth the subsequent weekend as we travel to midtable Mainz and their, as previously discussed, ridiculous and fantastic Mewa Arena.

Despite the week off prior to this match and week and a half off following, I still decide to tinker a little, resting Zagadou, Lamptey, Koné, and Burger to give Abderrazak Talbi, Scally, Gallardo, and Heywood chances to impress ahead of meeting Mainz again in our next fixture.

​

“It wasn’t pretty, boss, but they did it,” Kevin beams once I return to our technical area after the final whistle sounded.

“I’m staggered we won that, to be honest,” I reply, puffing out my cheeks. “The stats can’t have been great for either team.”

“0.36 xG for Mainz, 0.56 for us,” Zlatan confirms after tapping on his tablet a few times. “Still, a 1-0 win is a 1-0 win, at the end of the day.”

“Absolutely,” I smile, stepping onto the pitch with them both. “And look what it means to them.” I point at my players, all of whom are celebrating almost as wildly as when we won each of our pieces of silverware. “Sometimes, winning when you don’t play well is the best feeling.”

“What’s that saying that gets used in English football all the time? Winning when you’re playing badly is the sign of champions?” Zlatan asks.

“That’s the one,” Kevin confirms.

“Is it too early to be thinking like that?”

“Absolutely not, Zlatan,” I grin.

“At this rate, who’s going to stop us?”

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Thank you for reading! There won't be an epsiode of Foal From Grace next week as I take my contrctually mandated week off in June as a member of the LGBTQ+ community, but it should be returning the following weekend. In the meantime, a link to my socials and my previous story can be found on my Linktree, and please follow the thread to be updated every time there's a new post!