I should point out that this is a FM11 story, but the FM11 story section is closed, so I hope this can continue here!
Tuesday 6th July 2010
As I entered the press conference, cameras flashed at me like a sea of twinkling stars, as I approached the table at the front an audible hush fell across the crowd of journalists gathered in front of me. A man in a suit stood and introduced me to the crowd.
“Here we have 38 year old Danny Preston the new England manager.”
More camera flashes followed this announcement as everyone tried to get the photo that would make the front cover of the various tabloids. Opening my mouth I began to speak.
“I am delighted to have accepted this job, as a boy I would dream of this moment, and following my accident I never thought I would have a chance like this again. Any questions?”
A journalist from the front raised her hand and I gestured to her.
“And I’m thinking what’s the deal, with the facts that they conceal?”
Staring at her I wondered why she was asking me this question.
“I have no idea.” I replied confused.
Pointing to another journalist, I hoped for a more sensible question.
“But I’m thinking what’s the harm, with a bit of rhetoric and charm.”
“That’s not even a question.” I shouted over the growing noise. Everyone in the room was now speaking and they were all saying the same thing.
“But I can’t comprehend, a beginning or an end, no I can’t quite stomach this.”
Looking to the right of me I could see my phone flashing an alarm at me, picking it up I turned it off and the journalists stopped, well they disappeared and so did the rest of the room. Looking around I realised I was in my bedroom staring at the same walls.
Rubbing my eyes I tried to shake the dream, if it hadn’t have been for my alarm playing “No Sleep Tonight” by Enter Shikari, I might have stayed in that dream for a couple of hours longer. As it was I was late for another important meeting.
Stepping out of bed, I quickly dressed and walked downstairs, as I walked down the stairs I looked at the various football shirts in their frames. The first shirt I passed was a Newtown AFC shirt, which I had been given as a leaving present, I had spent 3 years at Newtown from 1990-93. The next shirt marked a period in my life where I played at the highest league I have ever played at, as a Shrewsbury Town supporter this shirt had been hard to pull on for the first time. But I had spent a happy 4 years at Wrexham, from 93-97. I had left Wrexham in 97 for an unknown team who had just won the Division 3 championship, Wigan had been my next port of call and I stayed there until the millennium. Following Wigan I had dropped down a league and had joined Bury for 2 years, until my boyhood team came knocking, I only stayed at Shrewsbury for a year, which had ended in relegation, framed with the shirt was a newspaper clipping from the Daily Mirror following our win over Everton. I had only moved down the road following Shrewsbury and joined Kidderminster Harriers, who I stayed with until they were too relegated. Chester City were next, I hadn’t been a popular signing, but I kept my head down for 2 years and had been sad to see their demise. My last league club were Accrington Stanley and I enjoyed a year there, until it was clear my legs had gone. The last shirt on the stairs was the shirt of the club I was due to have a meeting at, Chorley FC.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs I looked back at the shirts, feeling a sense of nostalgia. Entering the living room I looked down at the dog that greeted me, and sensed that it was time for breakfast for both of us. Opening a tin I dropped it into Rowley’s bowl, the proud English sheepdog tucked in and was soon chasing the bowl around the floor. For myself I prepared cornflakes, and settled down in front of the television to eat them.
Once I was finished I stood up and placed the bowl on the coffee table, whistling to Rowley I placed him on his leash and walked out of my house. Stepping onto the street I started my walk to Victory Park the home of Chorley FC where I had finished my career.
I say I finished my career but it was actually an accident I had had that had finished it off. Driving back down to my parent’s home in London one night, I had suffered a hypo at the wheel and had crashed my car into the central reservation of the M40, I was soon diagnosed as a type 1 diabetic. I could have carried on with my footballing career even as a diabetic, but the broken leg I had also suffered in the crash had spelt the end.
I soon arrived at the ground, slipping through one of the side gates, I approached the social club, where Ken Wright had told me he wanted to meet me. Tying Rowley to a post outside, I stepped inside.
“Danny!” Ken greeted me.
“Hello Ken” I replied.
Ken gestured to a seat by one of the tables and I took it.
“You look frozen.”
“I’ve never been able to adjust to the North.”
“Tea?”
I nodded my answer, I wanted to get down to business and get on with my day.
Ken soon plonked a mug of tea in front of me, he sat down with his mug, and opened a packet of sugar, and once he had poured his sugar he offered me a packet.
“No thanks, diabetes.”
He nodded and placed the packet back in front of him.
“So how does it feel? Manager of Chorley?”
“It feels good. Like home.”
“And how does Melanie feel about it?”
“She’s happy that she gets to stay in Chorley, I mean she’s from here.”
“No ring on the finger yet though?”
I shook my head, why had this meeting suddenly turned into a chat about my relationship with Melanie?
“Right then, down to business. There is no money for transfers. But I can give you £2.9k per week for wages if you can mount a title challenge.”
I nodded, I was going to do more than mount a title challenge, I was going to win the league.
“Also you will have to find your own assistant. I can place an ad if you want.”
“Please.”
Ken nodded and looked at me, trying to remember what he had to say.
“There is a chance for you to meet the local press tomorrow at 9am, I want you here.”
“Fine, how many should I be expecting?”
“Just the one, and it will take place in here.”
I nodded it was going to be nothing like my dream.
“Well that’s it really, you know where your office is.”
Standing up Ken shook my hand and left. I soon followed him, untying Rowley from the post I led him round to my office, it was small but there was enough room for a desk and a couple of filing cabinets.
Tuesday 6th July 2010
As I entered the press conference, cameras flashed at me like a sea of twinkling stars, as I approached the table at the front an audible hush fell across the crowd of journalists gathered in front of me. A man in a suit stood and introduced me to the crowd.
“Here we have 38 year old Danny Preston the new England manager.”
More camera flashes followed this announcement as everyone tried to get the photo that would make the front cover of the various tabloids. Opening my mouth I began to speak.
“I am delighted to have accepted this job, as a boy I would dream of this moment, and following my accident I never thought I would have a chance like this again. Any questions?”
A journalist from the front raised her hand and I gestured to her.
“And I’m thinking what’s the deal, with the facts that they conceal?”
Staring at her I wondered why she was asking me this question.
“I have no idea.” I replied confused.
Pointing to another journalist, I hoped for a more sensible question.
“But I’m thinking what’s the harm, with a bit of rhetoric and charm.”
“That’s not even a question.” I shouted over the growing noise. Everyone in the room was now speaking and they were all saying the same thing.
“But I can’t comprehend, a beginning or an end, no I can’t quite stomach this.”
Looking to the right of me I could see my phone flashing an alarm at me, picking it up I turned it off and the journalists stopped, well they disappeared and so did the rest of the room. Looking around I realised I was in my bedroom staring at the same walls.
Rubbing my eyes I tried to shake the dream, if it hadn’t have been for my alarm playing “No Sleep Tonight” by Enter Shikari, I might have stayed in that dream for a couple of hours longer. As it was I was late for another important meeting.
Stepping out of bed, I quickly dressed and walked downstairs, as I walked down the stairs I looked at the various football shirts in their frames. The first shirt I passed was a Newtown AFC shirt, which I had been given as a leaving present, I had spent 3 years at Newtown from 1990-93. The next shirt marked a period in my life where I played at the highest league I have ever played at, as a Shrewsbury Town supporter this shirt had been hard to pull on for the first time. But I had spent a happy 4 years at Wrexham, from 93-97. I had left Wrexham in 97 for an unknown team who had just won the Division 3 championship, Wigan had been my next port of call and I stayed there until the millennium. Following Wigan I had dropped down a league and had joined Bury for 2 years, until my boyhood team came knocking, I only stayed at Shrewsbury for a year, which had ended in relegation, framed with the shirt was a newspaper clipping from the Daily Mirror following our win over Everton. I had only moved down the road following Shrewsbury and joined Kidderminster Harriers, who I stayed with until they were too relegated. Chester City were next, I hadn’t been a popular signing, but I kept my head down for 2 years and had been sad to see their demise. My last league club were Accrington Stanley and I enjoyed a year there, until it was clear my legs had gone. The last shirt on the stairs was the shirt of the club I was due to have a meeting at, Chorley FC.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs I looked back at the shirts, feeling a sense of nostalgia. Entering the living room I looked down at the dog that greeted me, and sensed that it was time for breakfast for both of us. Opening a tin I dropped it into Rowley’s bowl, the proud English sheepdog tucked in and was soon chasing the bowl around the floor. For myself I prepared cornflakes, and settled down in front of the television to eat them.
Once I was finished I stood up and placed the bowl on the coffee table, whistling to Rowley I placed him on his leash and walked out of my house. Stepping onto the street I started my walk to Victory Park the home of Chorley FC where I had finished my career.
I say I finished my career but it was actually an accident I had had that had finished it off. Driving back down to my parent’s home in London one night, I had suffered a hypo at the wheel and had crashed my car into the central reservation of the M40, I was soon diagnosed as a type 1 diabetic. I could have carried on with my footballing career even as a diabetic, but the broken leg I had also suffered in the crash had spelt the end.
I soon arrived at the ground, slipping through one of the side gates, I approached the social club, where Ken Wright had told me he wanted to meet me. Tying Rowley to a post outside, I stepped inside.
“Danny!” Ken greeted me.
“Hello Ken” I replied.
Ken gestured to a seat by one of the tables and I took it.
“You look frozen.”
“I’ve never been able to adjust to the North.”
“Tea?”
I nodded my answer, I wanted to get down to business and get on with my day.
Ken soon plonked a mug of tea in front of me, he sat down with his mug, and opened a packet of sugar, and once he had poured his sugar he offered me a packet.
“No thanks, diabetes.”
He nodded and placed the packet back in front of him.
“So how does it feel? Manager of Chorley?”
“It feels good. Like home.”
“And how does Melanie feel about it?”
“She’s happy that she gets to stay in Chorley, I mean she’s from here.”
“No ring on the finger yet though?”
I shook my head, why had this meeting suddenly turned into a chat about my relationship with Melanie?
“Right then, down to business. There is no money for transfers. But I can give you £2.9k per week for wages if you can mount a title challenge.”
I nodded, I was going to do more than mount a title challenge, I was going to win the league.
“Also you will have to find your own assistant. I can place an ad if you want.”
“Please.”
Ken nodded and looked at me, trying to remember what he had to say.
“There is a chance for you to meet the local press tomorrow at 9am, I want you here.”
“Fine, how many should I be expecting?”
“Just the one, and it will take place in here.”
I nodded it was going to be nothing like my dream.
“Well that’s it really, you know where your office is.”
Standing up Ken shook my hand and left. I soon followed him, untying Rowley from the post I led him round to my office, it was small but there was enough room for a desk and a couple of filing cabinets.
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