Singing the Blues - A Semi-Fictional Story of Managing Birmingham City on FM23

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

​

There was a time when playing Chelsea meant an inevitable 1-0 loss. When Graham Potter managed them, we couldn’t find a way of beating them. But, now, Diego Simeone has done his utmost to bring the aggregate score to a much more level playing field.

We’ve barely passed the five-minute mark when Ibrahima Konaté plants his 20th - yes, 20th - goal of the season past Édouard Mendy and our lead is doubled before there’s a quarter of an hour gone, Tahith Chong slotting under the Senegalese ‘keeper in his typical fashion.

At near-identical points to their first-half counterparts, Roméo Lavia rifles in a third from 25 yards after the break and Bob van Leeuwen gets in on the act by rounding Mendy and rolling in to make it four, though Ángel Correa does buck the trend by nabbing one back with 20 minutes to go. Irritated by losing their clean sheet, my boys continue to pile forward and get their reward in injury time when Arda Güler converts the penalty that Danny Namaso won, capping off an emphatic victory at the home of one of the best teams in the league this season.

* * * * * * * *
​

It’s been a week, but I’m still rather scared of Bayern Munich. Yes, they lost at Hamburg over the weekend, but a Champions League semi-final at the Allianz Arena is not comparable to a Bundesliga away day when the title’s already won.

Fortunately for us, travelling to Germany with the aggregate score level and a clean bill of health for our first-choice options in every position of our 4-4-1-1 means we still have every chance of reaching the final, so Alex Scott and Oscar Gloukh will return from their weekend rest as we aim to topple the seven-time Champions of Europe.

​

After an early scare that requires Anel Ahmedhodžić to make a lung-busting recovery-run In order to clear off the line when Gabriel Vidović rounds Justin Bijlow, we calm ourselves down and start settling into a rhythm. We aren’t creating any huge openings, but Scott hits the bar twice before Timo Werner risks angering the beast by clearing off the line and denying the goal-hungry Konaté from a corner as we seem to inch closer to breaking the deadlock.

Then, we’re sucker punched by a Joshua Kimmich thunderbolt from the edge of our area.

For all our dominance this season, Bayern have so much more European experience that dread sets in very quickly. They restructure promptly, so we change shape and push for an equaliser, but every crack in their brick-wall defence we try to break through is filled instantly, and time is running out.

As the board for added time goes up, however, it finally clicks that going over a wall is easier than going through one.

Scott catches Güler drifting towards the left edge of Bayern’s box and floats a delightful ball into his path which Arda meets on the half-volley, skidding a low cross straight to the back post for Endrick to stab in. That goal is enough to force extra time, but neither team has any energy and, with the scores, shots, and xG for each team level, we head for penalties.

Vidović is the first to step up and he sends Bijlow the wrong way. Next is our regular taker, Gloukh. He steps up confidently and smashes his effort straight off the crossbar.

“Well, now we’re done for.”

“Shut up, Matt.”

“Sorry, gaffer.”

The advantage doesn’t remain in our hosts’ favour for long, however, as Bijlow is able to beat Paul Wanner’s attempt away before Kevin Volland restores parity, then our ‘keeper stands his ground to catch Serge Gnabry’s Panenka and Güler tucks his bottom-left.

Suddenly, it’s in our hands.

Leroy Sané and Endrick both score.

A Castello Lukeba miss would send us through, but he puts his spot-kick just out of Bijlow’s reach, so it comes down to Ian Maatsen as our fifth taker to try and clinch progress.

I close my eyes as he starts his run up.

I hear him kick the ball, then I hear the ripple of the net and feel the players and staff I’m huddled with sprint onto the pitch.

I fall to my haunches and try to compose myself, holding back my emotions as I shake Julian Nagelsmann’s hand.

Birmingham City are heading to Old Trafford to face Jude Bellingham’s Liverpool in the 2026 Champions League final.

* * * * * * * *
​

How do you attempt to follow that momentous occasion? With a trip to 16th-placed Leicester? Sounds comparable.

Since Carlos Vicens jumped ship from Hull, The Tigers have looked a much improved side, whilst Leicester have been much worse since his appointment, so draw whatever conclusions you wish from that. Despite their lowly position, it’ll be the same personnel that started the two hours of football during the week, as a midweek fixture at nearby Nottingham Forest is crammed between today and the FA Cup final next weekend, so I plan to give most players a rest on Wednesday anyway.

​

“What a way to break the record for Premier League wins, Nicole!” Keith beams at the full-time whistle.

“I really thought they’d put up more of a fight,” I admit. “They really didn’t care today, even before it got into ‘thumping’ territory at 4-0.”

“Was that the first goal Ibrahima’s scored with his feet this season?” Matt asks.

“Possibly, it’s difficult to keep track at this point - he’s scored so many,” I answer. “By the way, have either of you seen Harry since we got home?”

“Don’t think so,” Keith says.

“Me neither,” Matt adds. “Maybe he’s ill. Actually, I reckon he was uninterested in watching us dismantle a team that’ll probably get relegated next campaign, should they stick with their manager.”

“Maybe don’t say that so loud.”

“Nah, no one will’ve heard me - watch.” Matt crosses the tunnel to shake hands with Vicens before returning, stony-faced.

“Did he hear you?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He suggested I go swimming with concrete shoes on.”

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

After a weekend that saw both Stoke and Hull relegated and Leeds beat Manchester City 7-0 to cost Roger Schmidt his job, Roberto De Zerbi and his Nottingham Forest side know that they’re both at risk of suffering the same fates after our midweek clash at the City Ground.

An interesting quirk of the game’s scheduling means The Reds are the filling in a special, relegation zone sandwich. The teams in 18th and 20th are down already, whilst Forest are not yet confirmed to be returning to the Championship for 2026/27 with them, though failure to win tonight would make it official, along with taking us past the record of 101 points in one season as set by… us… a year ago.

Despite what rides on this match for both sides, the FA Cup final in three days has to take priority, so Bijlow, Konaté, and Ahmedhodžić are the only three to retain their starting berths from the drubbing across the East Midlands last Saturday.

​

It’s not every day that one of your centre-backs gets an assist, so both of them setting up goals within the first ten minutes is like finding a reasonably-priced, pre-owned Pokémon game, but we nab the deal of the year as Konaté and Ahmedhodžić do just that, respectively setting up Lavia and Tanguy Ndombele before there’s four digits on the clock.

Our hosts are understandably low in confidence and can’t get themselves going as the hope slowly drains from the stadium, the remaining supplies evaporating when Demarai Gray adds a third shortly after the break, something that Forest never recover from.

We keep our celebrations subdued as we break our own points record, conscious that we’ve condemned our hosts to the drop in the process.

* * * * * * * *
​

“I still haven’t talked to you about the cup final yet,” Beth says as we walk alongside one of Birmingham’s many canals. “It’s frustrating that it clashed with one of my craft fairs.”

“Don’t worry about it, I know it doesn’t interest you massively” I smile.

“I’d still like to hear about it.”

“Later.”

“When’s ‘later’?”

“Next Friday,” I answer. “We’ve still got two games to go in the Premier League and we’re in with a chance of going the whole campaign unbeaten, I don’t want to allow my focus to drift from that.”

“It’s very weird that they scheduled it before the last league fixtures,” Beth frowns. “Who is it you’ve got tomorrow, then?”

“Tottenham.”

“Didn’t you play them -”

“Two days ago? Yeah.”

“What an unusual coincidence,” Beth says. “Making lots of changes?”

“A few,” I answer. “Are you genuinely interested in hearing them?”

“Not really, I’ve still not been that interested since Lee Camp left,” Beth shrugs.

“That was six years ago.”

“And I’m still unhappy about it,” she says. “You could at least hire him to your coaching team.”

“He wouldn’t be interested,” I try to say convincingly.

“Stop lying to me, Nicole, you’re crushing my dreams.”

​

One of the things that’s allowed us to steam so far clear at the top has been acknowledging when it’s the right time to rotate players. Spurs, it seems, have not learnt this lesson yet as a number of knackered players that started the FA Cup final at the weekend appear again here, allowing our fresher side to dominate. Konaté nuts in our first, then Scott glances in a ninth-minute second, before Van Leeuwen is first to react to Maatsen’s deflected cross and adds another on the brink of the interval.

The second period continues the theme of heading as Ahmedhodžić gets in on the act before Robin Le Normand flicks in from the edge of the box for our visitors to steal a consolation in the same manner, only for Güler to ruin the potential ‘Game of Domes’ headline by toe-poking in our fifth shortly before added time.

Just one more fixture to navigate in order to claim our spot alongside Arsenal's Invincibles.

* * * * * * * *
​

“Against UFC, I’m finally going to do something I’ve wanted to do for my entire time here,” I say to my assistants on the morning after the Tottenham match.

“What would that be?” Keith asks, sat in one of the chairs by my desk.

“Guess,” I grin.

“You could at least guide us in the right direction,” Matt grumbles, leaning against the window.

“It’s something I’ve mentioned at least twice to you before.”

“You’re starting three strikers?” Keith guesses.

“No.”

“4-4-2?” Matt grunts.

“Still no.”

“Route one with Ibrahima up top?” Keith asks.

“Tempting, but no.”

“Get rid of any semblance of width and play an innovative quintuple-two formation?” Matt quizzes.

“I haven’t ever said anything about that, have I?” I respond, caught off guard.

“No, but it’s something I’ve wanted to see for years and I’m trying to speak it into existence,” Matt admits. “What is it then?”

“I’m naming a starting lineup of all the players numbered from one to eleven,” I beam.

“You’re starting Danny and Demarai against Manchester UFC, when you’re one game from an unbeaten season?” Matt glares.

“They’ve both been involved in goals recently, it’s not like they’re totally useless,” I snap. “Besides, the defence is still solid and UFC have only been good enough to finish seventh. Wayne Rooney’s football gives me almost no fear of defeat, don’t worry.”

​

It’s another quick start as Gray rewards us for his inclusion by sweeping in Chong’s low cross inside the opening ten minutes and, as sure as The Simpsons getting renewed for yet another season, Konaté powers in from a corner to double our advantage.

UFC, to their credit, have the temerity to halve the deficit just before half-time through Marcos Leonardo, so we spend the break bracing ourselves for an onslaught after the restart that… never comes. UFC have one off-target shot in the entire 45 minutes, so Van Leeuwen seals the deal by restoring the two-goal margin shortly before we get stodgy.

Whilst we’ll obviously have to prepare for our trip to UFC’s own stadium next weekend in the Champions League final, there will be plenty of time put aside to savour what the full-time whistle signifies:

Played 38, won 36, drawn two, lost none.

Birmingham City: Premier League Invincibles.

* * * * * * * *​

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[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Part Forty-Eight
The 2026 FA Cup Final​

Welcome back to Singing the Blues! It's the FA Cup final. Can we complete the domestic treble?

This part is spread across three posts, so please keep reading after the initial intro and again after the game has finished!

Season One
Season Two
Season Three
Part Thirty-Six
Part Thirty-Seven
Part Thirty-Eight
Part Thirty-Nine
Part Forty
Part Forty-One
Part Forty-Two
Part Forty-Three
Part Forty-Four
Part Forty-Five
Part Forty-Six
Part Forty-Seven

I don’t know what the time is as I start to stir, but I’m certain it’s earlier than I planned - just like every year. I open one eye and peer under the not-fully-closed blind. The sky is filled with the pastel pinks and purples that come shortly before sunrise, confirming my theory that it’s not quite five o’clock yet. Frustrated, I try to roll to my other side and am met by Beth staring at me like a lion watching the zoo’s meat delivery come in, startling me enough that I’m definitely not getting back to sleep this time.

“Happy birthday, Nicole,” she grins.

“Thanks,” I mumble. “How long have you been waiting for me to wake up?”

“About an hour, you normally wake up around now each year, so I didn’t want to miss you.”

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” I smile back. “I appreciate it, though.”

“This is the first time you’re working on your birthday, so I needed to make sure you enjoyed yourself before you left,” Beth reasons. “Also, I wanted to make sure there was time to hear about the FA Cup final a couple of weeks ago.”

“I see,” I snigger. “Not entirely selfless, then.”

“I was going to make breakfast while you tell me, if that helps.”

“See you downstairs,” I say, flinging the duvet off.

< < < < < < < <​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

“There’s no need to be so sassy, Nicole,” Keith Downing frowns.

“If you ask a silly question, you’ll get a silly answer,” I say.

“No such thing as a silly question,” Matt Gardiner grunts.

“‘Do you think wildlife get stressed by the clocks going back?’ is patently ridiculous.”

“I don’t think it’s as crazy a notion as you’re claiming, Nicole,” Matt suggests.

“How many foxes have you met with clocks?!” I huff. “Nature goes by daylight, not by our concept of time, so the presence of humans is always changing.”

“Which is normally gradual, but there’s a sudden shift when the clocks change,” Matt says.

“Which, I imagine, would be rather unexpected and stressful,” Keith explains.

I consider their arguments for a few moments.

“Alright, I concede that it wasn’t a silly question - sorry, Keith.”

“No worries, gaffer,” Keith winks.

Our conversation is brought to a halt by the clacking sound of studs on hard floor filling the room as the players return from their warmup. Most of my coaches give me nods and thumbs-ups to tell me it went as well as planned, but Maik Taylor pulls a face and gestures towards a visibly nervous Josh Griffiths. I put my hands on my knees and rise from my seat, crossing the dressing room and tapping my goalkeeper once on the shoulder.

“Josh, could you come with me, please? Won’t take long.”

He follows me into my office and I lean against the desk as he shuts the door behind him.

“What’s up with you, Josh?”

“Nothing, boss, I’m fine,” he mumbles.

“You’re clearly not, you look about as comfortable as a school child that’s been sitting on a wooden bench too long for assembly,” I retort. “So, I’ll try again: what’s up?”

“It’s just… this place,” Josh sighs. “I’ve played here twice before and I feel like I’ve let you down both times - I don’t want to do it a third.”

“You haven’t let me down, Josh,” I reply, shaking my head.

“But the Carabao Cup final when I came out of my box -”

“You misjudged how fast Ollie Watkins would be, it happens. We were 4-1 up with almost no time to go, it’s easy to forgive an error when a win is so close.”

“But I didn’t learn, because in the FA Cup semi-final I -”

“Tried to narrow the angle when Raheem Sterling was clean through?” I interrupt. “What else could you have done? Stand on your line and hope he hits it straight at you? I’d have done the same as you, no doubt.”

“Did you used to play in goal?”

“All five-foot-nine of me,” I chuckle. “Point is, Josh, one error in judgement when in touching distance of a trophy and then being left exposed by your defence does not equate to you letting me down - do you think I’d have picked you today if I didn’t think you were up to it?”

“I guess not…” Josh murmurs, staring at the floor and starting to smile to himself. He looks up and meets my gaze. “Thanks, gaffer, that means a lot.”

“No worries, Josh,” I smile. “Now, get back in there and get yourself ready - we’ve got a cup final to win.”

​

When Tahith Chong and Endrick both miss gilt-edged chances in the opening ten minutes, I’m concerned we’ll come to rue those wasted opportunities. Tottenham are well organised and set up to try and contain us for as long as possible, so continuing to probe is the only option we have. That said, we’re struggling to create anything or break through against the solid mass of white shirts that we keep bouncing off of as our opponents prove impenetrable after their nervy start.

Impenetrable, that is, until Calvin Bassey manages to bundle his way past Spurs’ right-sided defenders and gets into the box, centring a low cross…

​

… that Oscar Gloukh strokes into the far corner, despite the crowd of bodies around him.

Deadlock broken, Spurs try to adapt to a more expansive style of play, but all that does is leave them open while they adjust. We regain the ball within seconds of the restart and work it around well, until Bassey nods Endrick’s cross-field ball down to Bob van Leeuwen, who feeds it into Gloukh’s path…

​

… to drill across Diogo Costa and in.

We’re totally in control now and nearly add a third within a minute of our second, only to see Chong denied excellently by Costa, seemingly the only Spurs player interested in silverware. A slight twinge for Endrick that forces him to be withdrawn early for Arda Güler is disappointing, but the change barely affects our flow and we reach the interval having barely given Tottenham a chance.

I tell my boys at the break that I’m delighted with what I’ve seen, which can go one of two ways: either, they love the feedback and push on even more, or complacency sets in and Spurs catch us off guard by coming out of the blocks like they’ve had the legitimacy of the biological relationship with their father questioned.

It’s the latter.

Albert Capellas’ men look up for this now, pressing like mad and trying their utmost to generate chances, giving us an uncomfortable quarter of an hour where we struggle to keep hold of possession for extended periods.

“For goodness’ sake, I wish we’d stop belting it clear, we’re just giving it straight back to them,” I moan, just before the hour. “I expected better of Krystian, at the very least.”

​

“Actually, Nicole, I don’t think that’s what he’s done at all,” Keith says, pointing towards Güler.

​

“Oscar‘s free in the middle,” I whisper. I jump up and run to the edge of my technical area. “Oscar’s free in the middle!”

Güler ignores my screams and keeps running, cutting inside as he nears the byline after covering almost all of Spurs’ half.

​

“Oscar’s still free in the middle!” I try to shout, but there’s no way he can hear me over our fans now.

And it doesn’t matter.

Oscar might be free, but Arda doesn’t need him.

​

My whole bench leaps up in disbelief, as does half of Wembley as the other half start heading for the exits already. We may have just witnessed the best goal in FA Cup history.

As Güler jogs back into position for the restart, he passes by where I’m standing.

“Sorry, gaffer, did you say something?”

Similar to the first half, the second-best English team this season are rattled by our goal and struggle to react quickly enough, getting sloppy on the ball and giving away a deep free kick that, man of the moment, Güler lifts forward…

​

… to be met by the head of Ibrahima Konaté…

… and, well, it wasn’t going to end any other way, was it?

Now, at 4-0 and with nearly half an hour to play, we can relax. Tottenham have gotten off the plane and collected their baggage, just waiting for the taxi to arrive as we play keep-ball in front of a decreasingly-neutral Wembley, apart from Costa who is alert enough to prevent Alex Scott from adding a late fifth. He’s been, unironically, a contender for the man of the match award today.

But, as the final whistle sounds, individual awards are not what’s important to us today.

Birmingham City are your 2026 FA Cup winners.

And, more significantly perhaps, England’s second-ever winners of its domestic treble .

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

“How did you manage to keep yourself from telling me all that before now?” Beth asks, placing my breakfast of a black coffee and a sesame seed bagel in front of me. “You can barely contain what presents you get me for Christmas.”

“I assumed you weren’t that interested, in truth,” I admit. “I was also trying to stay focussed on going unbeaten, of course.”

“I’m always interested in hearing about your big games,” Beth laughs, plonking herself onto the stool on the opposite side of the breakfast bar. “How Neco Williams is doing in training, however, is a different story.”

“Even I don’t find that particularly interesting, no idea why I repeat it to you,” I say, buttering my bagel and taking a bite that was far bigger than it should’ve been. “Forry.”

“Delightful,” Beth grimaces as I swallow my enormous mouthful.

“It’s my birthday, stop judging.”

The rest of my time with Beth passes like a breeze and, before I know it, it’s time to leave for Wast Hills.

I have my morning briefing with the squad and send them off for fitness drills as I head upstairs, planning on rejoining them for on-pitch work in a while. As I travel through the corridors of our training complex, making a point to take a long route and greet as many departments as I can, nervous excitement can be felt emanating from everyone I pass. Seemingly not a single person is capable of remaining calm ahead of tomorrow’s Champions League final - and understandably so.

Eventually, the number of colleagues present starts to dwindle as I near my office. I glance at each of the pictures of the club’s successes throughout its history that line the walls, my muffled footsteps on the carpeted floor the only soundtrack as I think about all the big days that have come before me, all that we’ve had since I arrived, and the biggest one yet that’s still to come.

All of that goes flying out of my brain, however, as I open my door.

“Harry?! I haven’t seen you for weeks, where have you been?!”

“Happy birthday, Nicole,” Harry says, awkwardly perching on the edge of my guest chair. “Why don’t you sit down?

“I’ve got quite a bit of explaining to do.”

* * * * * * * *​

Thank you for reading! Please follow this thread to keep up with the updates, and feel free to follow me on Instagram and Twitter!

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Part Forty-Nine
The 2026 Champions League Final​

Welcome back to Singing the Blues! It's the Champions League final and Harry has a lot to share. Can we be the first to complete The Quadruple?

This part is spread across six posts, so please keep reading until you find the epilogue!

Season One
Season Two
Season Three
Part Forty-Eight (Links to all of Season Four)

​

I slowly round my desk and lower myself into my chair, scanning Harry as I do so. Something seems off about him.

“You look concerned, Nicole,” Harry states.

“You disappeared for three and a half weeks, without warning, before unexpectedly reappearing the day before the Champions League final and telling me you’ve got a lot to explain - yes, I’m a little concerned,” I scowl.

“It’s very understandable, when you put it like that,” he accepts.

“In which case, perhaps you should get to talking about whatever it is you want to share.”

“Yes,” Harry sighs. “Well, where do I start?”

* * * * * * * *​

“Well, where do I start?”

“Normally with the goalkeeper, that’s pretty standard for a lineup.”

“Thank you, Matthew, how very helpful of you,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I meant final opposition instructions, now we know Liverpool’s eleven.”

“It’s simple,” Matt Gardiner says. “Kick the living daylights out of their midfield and worry about the rest later, once we see who’s pulling the strings.”

“I’d add Trent Alexander-Arnold and Sofiane Diop to that list, make their influential players on either flank question whether they want the ball or not,” Keith Downing adds.

“Good shout, Keith,” Matt nods, trying to add red crosses through the names of both the players on the whiteboard, but the pen he’s using runs out. “Why the heck didn’t they give us brand-new pens?!” He launches it across the dressing room and chips a wooden panel on the wall. “Oops.”

“Probably didn’t want them to dry out over the summer,” I say. “Plus, we’re in the away dressing room, so I doubt they’ve provided as many supplies as they have the home one.”

“Should be the same in each, it’s the blooming Champions League final…” Matt grumbles.

“Plays into our hands, though,” Keith says. “I mean, think about it: we have a perfect record here when using this dressing room and we’re playing against a team we’ve never lost to - this is about as good as we could hope for.”

“We’ve had words about you jinxing things, Keith, I can’t believe you’d think this is an appropriate time to say such a thing,” Matt snarls.

“I’m only stating facts!” Keith shouts. “You should be more positive!”

“That’s your job!” I shout back. “My job is to fret, spiral, and second-guess every decision, before you and Matthew remind me that the initial plan has worked so many times that I should just stick with it!”

“She makes a good point,” Matt says. “Like the tactics for today: you were overthinking, Nicole, but we convinced you to go with the 4-3-3 that’s kept us unbeaten against Liverpool and just stick the best players into each position. The result tonight might mean more than usual, but it’s still 22 players who’ll decide the result over 90 minutes, just like any other game.”

“Might be extra-time and penalties.”

“Shut up, Keith, you’re not helping me here.”

< < < < < < < <​

“You’ve got to help me here, Nicole, and keep an open mind over everything I tell you,” Harry says.

“I like to think I’m not as judgemental as you always make me out to be, Harry.”

“You are.”

“What about the time -”

“You are. Most of the time.”

“But, sometimes -”

“You are. Most of the time. Especially when it comes to outlandish concepts, or right-wing political views.”

“Maybe, you should be less judgemental…” I mutter. “Go on then, I’m ready for anything.”

Harry takes a deep breath and locks his grey eyes onto mine.

“I passed away nearly 65 years ago and have been stuck here in a weird sort of purgatory since then.”

I stare blankly at Harry for what feels like several days.

“I’m sorry, what?”

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

“I’m sorry, what?” I shout to my Matt, trying to be heard over the noise of the Champions League anthem.

“I said, why haven’t we resigned Jude Bellingham yet?” he shouts back, gesturing to Jude as he stands with his teammates, shoulders back and chin pushed out.

“Have you got a spare £250 million?”

“How much?!”

“Exactly!” I yell, just as the song ends and drawing the attention of everyone nearby. I hold my hand up in apology, continuing in a quieter voice. “We’re still paying off loads of other transfers since I came in, otherwise I’d have been given a budget big enough to make something work.”

“Ludicrous,” Matt huffs. “You’d think all this European football would earn enough revenue to give us the cash to at least work on bringing our most successful academy graduate back - it makes no sense.”

< < < < < < < <​

“This makes no sense,” I say, shaking my head. “How can you be a spirit when you’re physically here? I’ve played board games with you, I’ve travelled with you, I’ve watched you drink enough alcohol that you’ve needed to be carried into your house - you’re a fully-functioning human being!”

“I don’t make the rules,” Harry shrugs. “Do you ever think about why I don’t seem to age? How I bought a house on a personal assistant’s salary? Managed to have insight on managers who left umpteen years ago, whilst still appearing under 30?”

“Excellent skin-care routine, a football-sized wage, and being good at your job were my assumptions,” I say. “Is that why you don’t talk about your childhood?”

“Exactly, I didn’t want to reveal anything that might make people suspicious,” he nods. “All of that was fine while the club was struggling for success and managers were coming and going faster than the M&S Christmas advert in 2023 and paying little attention to me, but you being here for four years and becoming close to me has made it difficult to fly under the radar, as has the growth at the club that’s seen an influx in interest and staff, meaning -”

“Meaning that people have done a little digging and have some questions about the alleged-30-something with few personal details on their record and has been around for half a century?”

“Precisely,” Harry says. “I’ve been doing my best to cover my back since the summer, but there’s only so much I can do.”

“I guess that’s the secret that’s being kept from me then?”

“Yes,” he admits. “I tried to keep it contained and not distract from the football, but I fear this might be my last chance to explain.”

“Why’s that?”

Harry exhales deeply, what we’re about to discuss clearly carrying a significant weight.

“To get the full picture, let me go back to the beginning…”

* * * * * * * *
​

Straight from the beginning of the match, Jürgen Klopp is furious. His Liverpool team look nervous, overawed by the occasion despite being on this stage so many times before, while our European-final newbies look totally unfazed and, by the time The Reds look to be pressing slightly more, that’s when all the gaps start appearing.

We work the ball out from a goal kick exquisitely, each player making passes before any of our opponents can work out where to run, until Neco Williams gives the ball to Endrick on the edge of the Liverpool box.

​

Unmarked, but with his back to goal, the Brazilian doesn’t seem to have a lot of options available to him.

But Endrick only needs one option.

​

With a single touch to get the ball out of his feet, he swivels and bends a curling strike perfectly into the top-left corner, nestling into the lone square foot of side-netting that’s out of Alisson’s reach as he nabs a top-class finish in the biggest game there is.

Liverpool don’t react. The half-time break comes and goes and they’re still struggling to get going, but the man with magic in his feet - or, perhaps, previously ON his feet - Bob van Leeuwen doesn’t give them a moment’s respite and, with three red shirts around him, slips a wonderful pass through for Alex Scott…

​

… and my first Premier League goal scorer doesn’t miss chances like that.

With just over half an hour to go, can we win our first European final ever, having fallen short in both the 1960 and 1961 Inter-Cities Fairs Cup finals?

< < < < < < < <​

“We have to go back to the second leg of the 1961 Inter-Cities Fairs Cup final,” Harry explains. “I was meant to be there, but got taken ill the morning I was meant to travel to Rome and had to go into hospital. I missed the game, but swore then that I would make sure I saw the next time we reached a European final. I didn’t make it through the night.”

“I see…” I say, slowly. “So that’s why no one knows your surname: if they looked you up, they’d find a birth certificate and a death certificate.”

“Nailed it,” Harry acknowledges.

“And yet, here you are.”

“Right. I woke up in Small Heath, miles away from where I’d passed. I tried to make sense of it, but I just… couldn’t. I even went to see my family, but they thought it was some horrid trick.

“In the end, I got myself a job at Blues and dedicated myself to helping a manager get us back into a continental competition, but decades went by and it never seemed close. By that point, I’d obviously noticed that my physical appearance wasn’t changing, but there was always enough churn to prevent anybody from detecting me - especially when cameras were nowhere near as prevalent as they are today.”

“Are you the one who made Trevor Francis’ socks magic?” I ask.

“Here’s the thing, Nicole, they might be magic, but they might not be - I don’t actually know. But, whenever a promising youth prospect comes through our academy, do you think it hurts to give the manager a little nudge to make the most of that talent?”

“It could backfire,” I bristle. “Could even cost a manager their job.”

“But that’s the thing, Nicole, no one has to listen to me and act on what I tell them,” Harry retorts. “You didn’t have to play Bob, but you knew he was talented and gave him that chance - look at him now! You’re going to start him in a Champions League final!”

“That’s true,” I begrudgingly accept. “I do have an unrelated question, though still on the topic of your ghostiness.”

“Go on…”

“Is your presence why it’s gotten so cold in here recently? Is your curse ending?”

“It may be ending, I presume tomorrow will bring it to an end, win or lose, but the temperature is because Matthew’s been gradually lowering the temperature of your air conditioning and bribing people to not acknowledge it, as retaliation for telling everyone about Winston.”

“What an evil git.”

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

“You’re truly an evil git, Matthew,” I snigger as Thiago passes straight out of play for a goal kick. “Going in hard on their midfield has shattered their confidence.”

“Thank you, thank you, I do try,” he says with a devilish grin. Justin Bijlow plays the ball to Anel Ahmedhodžić.

“Everything’s going exactly as we want it to, isn’t it?” Keith says as Ahmedhodžić moves it on to Oscar Gloukh. “Barring a major mistake on our part, I can’t see Liver-”

​

Matt and I glare at Keith.

“At least he put it wide…” he mumbles.

“Only just,” I seethe. “You need to stop talking, Keith. Each time you tempt fate, it makes it so much harder to predict how the game will pan out and plan accordingly.”

< < < < < < < <​

“So, what’s your plan?” I ask Harry. “How do you intend to spend your time before being able to move on at last?”

“I want to sit in the stands and watch the final as any other fan would,” Harry says. “I’ve been so ingrained in working matchdays that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be amongst a crowd. It’s all I’ve wanted for nearly three-quarters of a century, after all.”

“I’m certain that can be arranged,” I say, smiling softly. “Anything else?”

“Well, I do have one request…”

“Anything.”

“A final Pre-Match Board Game Night?” Harry beams.

“Definitely,” I chuckle. “What did you want to play?”

“How about Superclub?” Harry asks. “I love that, even in virtual football, you find a way to stodge your way to victory.”

We simultaneously burst out laughing, everything that’s been said meaning little for a brief moment.

“If it’s stodge you want, it’s stodge you’ll get.”

* * * * * * * *​

“I think, boys,” I start as Jerry St. Juste clears the ball into touch. “It’s time to get stodgy.”

I unfold the shape I scribbled down after my last substitutions.

​

“Sounds good to me, boss,” Keith winks.

“Me too,” Matt nods.

I hand the paper over to Krystian Bielik as the restart is delayed by Andy Robertson needing treatment for cramp. Bielik smirks, orchestrating the rearrangement of his teammates as we settle into the trusty shape.

The remainder of normal time ebbs away, second-by-second, as Liverpool’s remaining energy reserves are drained, chasing shadows as we wind down the clock with a game of keep-ball.

Added time comes. Added time goes. Liverpool have no answer.

Birmingham City are your 2026 Champions League winners.

Birmingham City: Quadruple winners.

< < < < < < < <​

“‘Birmingham City: Quadruple winners’ would sound good, wouldn’t it?” Harry says as we pack away our game.

“It would,” I agree. “I hope that we can do it for you, Harry.”

“I hope so too,” he replies. “But, y’know what? I’m not convinced it matters now, to be perfectly honest.”

“Really?”

“Just look around you, Nicole. Look at how far this club has come under your management. We’ve gone from relegation certainties in the Championship to three-time Premier League winners, including an unbeaten season. The mood around the place has improved, the mentality around the place has improved, and the sheer quality that oozes from every aspect of the club is testament to where you’ve dragged it from.

“It’s not just about the football, though, Nicole,” Harry continues. “Finally, for the first time I can remember, I feel like I’ve met someone who cares about me on a personal level. That’s why I know I’m ready to move on, whatever happens - Blues are in the best place in their history, as am I.”

We stand and I round the desk to give Harry a final hug as he prepares to leave.

“I’m going to miss you, Harry,” I say as he nears the door, silent tears now streaming down my face.

“As I will you,” he responds. “One final thing, Nicole, before I leave you.”

“Sure thing.”

“Make sure you do your squad report for the board after tomorrow, I have a feeling it’ll be more important to them than ever.”

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

​

I can now freely admit that I had my doubts over replacing David de Gea with Justin Bijlow at the start of the season. How could anyone possibly follow the reigning World Goalkeeper of the Year? Well, Bijlow stepped up and then some. The Premier League Golden Glove and a record-setting ten clean sheets in the Champions League has seen him have more shut-outs than games in which he’s conceded, while his crucial saves in big fixtures have made him indispensable to this team.

Josh Griffiths, meanwhile, has slowly grown in confidence after impressing on loan at Sunderland last season and has garnered a clean-sheet-percentage of 60. He has the odd moments where his inexperience shows, but he’s a perfectly serviceable back-up to Bijlow whilst Patricio Merlo develops in the Under-21s.

It almost goes without saying that there is no point in letting go of Jack Butland. No appearances this season, but he could do a job in a pinch and counts towards our homegrown quota in Europe. I’m sure he’ll be an excellent addition to the coaching team too, once he hangs up his gloves.

​

I love Ibrahima Konaté. The few boys who have made the journey from Championship to Champions League with me will always be my favourites, but he’s next on the list. Both Anel Ahmedhodžić and Ilgaz Garhan had excellent seasons too (especially as this was Garhan’s debut season and in a country where he didn’t speak the language), but Konaté’s irrepressible desire to nut footballs with his head has set him apart - it’s not often that a centre-back will score 24 times and finish as one of three joint-top scorers.

I was disappointed that Andrew Omobamidele wasn’t given the chances he was promised whilst on loan at Club Brugge in the first half of the season, hence we decided to recall him. He’s made a few cameo appearances since coming back, but he still hasn’t kicked on since his important role in our first title win and I’m starting to question whether he’ll ever make the grade. Axel Tuanzebe, for what it’s worth, did a good job whenever called upon, but probably isn’t worth keeping around.

I’m sure he enjoyed his spell in B9 a lot more than he did his time across the city a few years ago.

​

Given the reduced reliance on our full-backs to provide our width after reverting to our 4-3-3 shape this campaign, somewhat of a drop in their statistics was expected, but I’m pleasantly surprised to see most of them still clocking up good numbers. It’s also notable that the right-backs were asked to be more adventurous and duly recorded lower pass-success percentages

None of them are worth replacing and all do exactly what’s asked of them, but the quality in depth that’s available could make it one of the positions that would make sense to cash in on, should the need arise.

​

I won’t ever stop talking about how underrated Krystian Bielik is. Maybe, someday, the wider footballing community will understand. The contrast between his towering aerial-dominance and five-foot-six Stevica Gajić‘s nippy, interception-based play is stark, but their qualities on the ball are so similar that it’s given us the freedom to pick whichever is best suited to each opponent - an incredibly valuable option to have.

That said, the option should always be Krystian Bielik. He’s glorious.

Alex Scott seems to never stop improving. Another 25 goal contributions to add to his tally this season has nearly doubled the total from his previous two seasons and I can’t see his development slowing down any time soon - he’s almost undroppable. That said, Roméo Lavia did his utmost to change that since his summer arrival, scoring nine and assisting four more for an excellent return in reasonably limited minutes.

Tanguy Ndombele was an unfortunate casualty of our change of system when we returned to three midfielders, however he’s still managed to perform excellently when called upon and has been professional enough to accept that he’s not a regular starter any longer. Who is it that’s keeping him out of the team again? Ah, yes, that’d be Oscar Gloukh.

Bloomin’ ‘eck, Oscar Gloukh.

I never thought Tahith Chong’s 48 goal contributions in 49 games over the course of 2022/23 would ever be beaten, but Gloukh has blown it out of the water: 21 goals and 36 (yes, THIRTY-SIX) assists, 26 of them setting a new Premier League record, saw him chalk up a monumental 57 combined-involvements in just 54 appearances. Absolutely bonkers from the corner-swinging 22-year-old who must be retained at all costs.

Oh, and Jobe Bellingham’s still here.

​

I’m pretty happy with all of our options out wide. Almost everyone has managed at least eight goals and eight assists, which includes the second of our joint-top scorers, Endrick, getting 36 goal involvements off of the right to continue the staggering start he made to his St. Andrew’s career and Arda Güler managing 22 despite only starting 13 games. The only player who didn’t hit the same mark as the others was Demarai Gray, but his three starts and eight appearances off the bench mean his three goals still gave him an average of 0.71 goals per 90, whilst he also helps with European registration rules, so should be held on to despite his bit-part role.

​

The final joint-top scorer, only just ranking above Endrick due to his extra assist, was Bob van Leeuwen - could it be anyone else? The academy graduate had a blistering start and, just as it looked like his form was dipping, the arrival of Kevin Volland to provide like-for-like competition clearly had the desired effect and motivated the teenager to get back to his best, whilst also easing some of the burden on his shoulders to be available and at the top of his game every match.

Danny Namaso has had a habit of scoring important goals during his Blues tenure and that’s a quality that should never be underestimated, but he doesn’t really have a natural place in our current system. He’s still young and pretty versatile, but he might benefit from some time away where he can get regular minutes.

Or, I suppose, the next manager might plan to use him more than I did recently.

* * * * * * * *​

“‘The next manager’?” Chairman Bruno Lucas reads aloud, nervously.

“Yes,” I reply, trying to sound confident but hitting ‘child telling their parents they’re definitely running away from home for real this time’. “Some events over the last few days have made me realise that I could do with a change of scenery. Besides, is there much more for me to achieve here?”

“Being the first English team to win four titles in a row?” Technical Director Craig Gardner says.

“Being the first English team to retain the Champions League since its rebranding?” Director of Football Luke Dowling adds.

“Spending your entire managerial career with the team you’ve loved your whole life?” Bruno suggests.

“I accept that those would be great things, but I just can’t stay,” I admit. “I need time away from the club to refresh myself.”

“Okay,” Bruno sighs. “But we can’t guarantee that this job will be here for you once you’ve cleared your head.”

“I understand,” I nod. “Maybe I’m making a huge mistake, but I need something more challenging than romping the league again. I’d love to at least come back and see the stadium, once the work on the expansion is complete.”

“You’d be more than welcome, Nicole,” Bruno smiles. “I’m sure our paths will cross again on the pitch too. Whichever dugout you’re in, it’ll be a pleasure to see you - I wish you the best of luck with whatever you do next.”

“Thank you, Bruno,” I say, reciprocating his smile. “Any ideas on who you might get in to replace me?”

“There’s a few early candidates…”

“Do you want us to tell the players and the coaching team?” Bruno continues.

“No, I should tell them myself,” I answer. “I’ve already arranged meetings for this afternoon - I’m hoping it doesn’t go down too badly.”

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

“I think this might be the first time I’ve ever seen you speechless, Keith,” Matt blubbers to his stony-faced colleague.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry, either,” I suggest. “You’re both taking it better than Bob did, though.”

“How did he react?”

“He cried, hugged me, and said I was ‘like a mother to him’, which I guess is a nice sentiment.”

“Isn’t he fewer than ten years younger than you?”

“Yes,” I frown. “I let him off, it was an emotional occasion.”

“Where will you go next?” Maik Taylor asks.

“I’m not sure yet, I’ll have to see what’s out there,” I admit.

“If you’re not staying, then neither am I,” Keith mumbles, the first time he’s spoken since I shared my news. A number of the team indicate their agreement with his position.

“Nor me,” Matt sniffs. “You’re the yin to my yang, there’s no point me being here without you.”

​

“That’s possibly the sweetest thing you’ve ever said, Matt,” I beam.

“Oooooooo, not Matt,” Keith says. “He hates that, never call him Matt.”

Matt tries to hold back a laugh but ends up snorting like a pig.

“Actually, Keith, I’ve got something to tell you…”

* * * * * * * *
​

That’s it: the last box packed. I thank the courier as he adds it to his sack barrow and heads down the hallway to load into his van, the final possessions of mine on the way out of Wast Hills, but I hang back for a moment to allow myself one final chance to drink in the sensation of being stood right here, right now. I’ve had such a special time managing the club I’ve supported my whole life.

I plonk myself into my chair and begin gently stroking the desk as I gaze around the room. It’s as clean as when I found it, but nowhere near the same. My whiteboard that’s stored hundreds of tactical thoughts has been wiped clean, the cabinet in the corner that once held a whiskey set was replaced with a shelving unit for board games, and there’s now a wonderfully comfy armchair by the window that I’m, frankly, a little annoyed I didn’t try to claim was my own and take with me.

Ah, yes. There is one last thing I meant to do.

I pick up a pen and proceed to write down a message on one of the sheets of letterheaded paper from my draw. I stand and cross the office, open the remaining cabinets, shove the endlessly respawning Men’s Fitness magazines out of the way, and open the box containing Trevor Francis’ socks, checking what I wrote one last time before placing it on top of the footwear, tidying up, and leaving this place for the last time:

To the individual who has replaced me as Birmingham City’s manager,

I know it seems odd to have some socks lying around your office, but these once belonged to the greatest player to ever pull on the royal blue of this club and are now well over half a century old - so be delicate!

These socks have meant a great deal to a great number of people, but to none more so than myself and my closest friend, so look after them, appreciate them, but, every once in a while, why not let one of the boys who hasn’t made his debut yet wear them in their scholarship match, like Jude Bellingham and Bob van Leeuwen did? You never know what might become of them.

Best of luck, you better take good care of my club.

Keep right on,

Nicole Andrews

* * * * * * * *​

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Epilogue
​

“Jack’s at the door.”

“I don’t want to talk to them,” I tell Beth.

“You’ll have to talk to your agent at some point, assuming you want another job,” Beth frowns. “Also, they’ve said that you’ll have to face their ‘Brown fury’ if you don’t see them and I don’t think I want to know what that means.”

I sigh deeply and haul myself off of the sofa.

“It’s a joke based on their surname and an email you can get on Football Manager when you lay into your players,” I explain, trudging to the front door where my agent and longtime friend, Jack Brown, is waiting for me. “Hey, Jack. What do you want?”

“May I come in?” they ask.

“Now’s probably not the best time…” I lie.

“It’s fine, she’s only rewatching the Champions League final for the third time this week,” Beth calls from the lounge.

I sigh again.

“Alright, come on then.”

We walk back through the house and I slump back into my spot, Jack perching on the edge of the cushions, tablet in hand.

“Would you like a drink, Jack?” Beth asks.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure they won’t be staying long,” I grumble.

“I wasn’t asking you, stop sulking when people are trying to help you.”

“That’s alright, Beth, I might be done quickly,” Jack says. “All depends on whether Nicole’s interested in anything I’ve got to say.”

“Not likely,” I mutter.

“I’ll leave her in your capable hands,” Beth says and, with a roll of her eyes, leaves the room to return to her art studio.

“How many times have you watched this, then?” Jack asks after a few moments have passed.

“Too many,” I admit.

“You need to stop wallowing, Nicole.”

“Do I?”

“That depends, I suppose. Do you want to start your next job with a whole preseason to shape the squad to your liking?” Jack queries.

“Yes, but -”

“And are you willing to spend a year unemployed, trying to decide if you regret leaving, your stock declining, all while the next Birmingham manager inevitably doesn’t hit the heights you did and you struggle to distract yourself from it?”

“I guess not,” I accept. I sit upright and turn off the television. “Right, what are my options?”

Jack sucks air through their teeth and opens their tablet.

“Well, Manchester City have offered you an interview.”

“I’m not sure -”

“Don’t worry, I’ve rejected that horrid bunch already,” Manchester UFC-supporting Jack says. “Cagliari just got promoted to Serie A and made an offer.”

“Could be interesting.”

“As long as you don’t mind cutting your wages by three-quarters.”

“Who else have you got?”

“Real San Sebastián?”

“Sociedad?”

“No, San Sebastián.”

“I thought -”

“It’s a licensing issue with FM that’s confusing you, I think, a bit like the whole Capitoline/Roma fiasco,” Jack explains.

“I’m too confused, I’m not sure I’m interested,” I huff.

“That leaves just one in that case,” Jack says. “But I’ve saved the best for last: how do you like the sound of an European regular that finished as runners-up in both the Bundesliga and DFB-Pokal two seasons ago, before winning the cup last campaign?”

“Sounds like I’m unsure as to why they’re looking for a new manager.”

“Because they finished 15th, only avoiding the relegation play-off on the second-to-last day.”

“Yikes, quite the fall from grace,” I grimace. “Colour me intrigued. Which club is it?”

“It’s a German team,” Jack beams. “Just like that pub in Glasgow claimed all those years ago.”

“You don’t mean…?”

“Yes, yes I do,” Jack grins.

“How do you fancy trying to spell Borussia Mönchengladbach on a regular basis?”

* * * * * * * *​

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to follow me on Instagram and Twitter!

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Part Fifty... sort of...

Part Forty-Nine (with further links to all other parts)

​

Hello! It’s Nicole here - not the one from the universe where Birmingham City have just claimed Champions League glory, the one who’s still sad about John Eustace’s sacking and a little fearful of having to work out which League One grounds she wants to visit next season.

Hopefully, this post won’t be enormous and I won’t ramble on for too long as it essentially boils down to this: thank you.

Before 2022, I’d never considered myself much of a writer. Go back a few more years and I didn’t even think I was particularly creative, but my opinions gradually changed over time and now I type this message with a 49-part, over-100,000-word piece of literature that I’ve produced over the last year; trust me, no one is more surprised than me - especially because I have a tendency to get disheartened and give up on things.

What’s kept me going this time, however, is knowing that there’s around 400-500 people PER WEEK that keep coming back to read about my Football Manager save and the, frankly, ridiculous world I’ve built. I can’t thank you enough for the support and motivation you’ve provided me with, especially those of you who have taken the time to leave comments on the thread, they really mean a lot to me.

There are some people that it’d be remiss of me to go without mentioning specifically: Matt (MatthewElphinstone - I hope the little one’s doing well!) who was the first to leave a comment on my work (apart from Crayth, but Crayth’s a Villa fan, so does it really count? All the best if you’re reading this, Crayth!!), Dan (dporter8999 - I need an update on how the West Ham save went!) who has far and away the most interactions with the series on here, and Szymon (@fm.from_zero_to_hero on Instagram), with whom I have an unusual relationship in that we’ve never spoken to each other, but both like everything the other posts, like a weird and slow digital version of volleyball. To know that there are strangers who enjoy my writing and are taking the time to read it each week really touches me, and the fact you’ve also taken the time to give me positive feedback has blown me away - I can’t put into words how much it means.

There’s not just strangers who need mentioning, however. The support of my dad, a constant source of feedback, and my friend Jack, who has a talent for being useful to bounce ideas off of without leading me in any particular direction, has been invaluable, but the most important person has been my fiancée, Beth. Beth, much like her characterisation, is not particularly interested in football, but every week has sat through me reading my drafts of each part to be my quality control, while also offering as much feedback and support as possible, as well as being very understanding as I took on a project that’s consumed a large chunk of my free time. I couldn’t do it without her.

So, in summary, thank you to all of you reading this right now. The ones who’ve kept right on ‘til the end, even in light of FM24’s release. I’ve had a wonderful time writing Singing the Blues and, after a break to refresh myself, I hope you’ll join me when Foal From Grace begins and the journey continues with Borussia Mönchengladbach.

Until then, I’d love to hear from you! Which was your favourite part? What did you like about the series? Was there anything you’d like to see me do differently? Please, feel free to leave your thoughts in the feed - I’m all ears! I've also attached screenshots of the final attributes of every senior player at the point I left, for those who are interested in seeing just what I was working with.

I can’t wait to expand this universe and I hope you’ll come along for the ride with me.

See you soon!

Much love,

Nicole

P.S. Yes, the heart below is made up of every player's name in proportion to how many times they played for me - I put far too much effort into it.

 

[FancyPantsCam]

Congrats on both the achievements in game, and with finishing off this huge project too! Did not expect that very late twist and am looking forward to you wrestling with compound nouns in Germany. My wife sometimes suffers the same fate as Beth, so she has my sympathies. Also, you keeping up this schedule is so impressive this deep in, I find it hard making updates myself and mine are so much less involved.

TLDR: You did good

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Congrats on both the achievements in game, and with finishing off this huge project too! Did not expect that very late twist and am looking forward to you wrestling with compound nouns in Germany. My wife sometimes suffers the same fate as Beth, so she has my sympathies. Also, you keeping up this schedule is so impressive this deep in, I find it hard making updates myself and mine are so much less involved.

TLDR: You did good

Thanks, Cam! I’m glad you enjoyed I remember doing German compound nouns at school - they’re definitely going to cause havoc in the next story!

It was tough to keep up the schedule sometimes, but I’m glad I managed to keep up the pace for the whole story as I didn’t want to let anybody down. Always keep an eye out for new instalments of your own story!

 

[dporter8999]

Congrats on completing your awesome journey! Has been a rollercoaster of a ride and loved reading it all, from the journey with the team, the home life with Beth, and of course the brilliant twist with Harry. Must say, I believe Matt & Keith are great as the comic reliefs! My West Ham save both started and ended pretty quickly in comparison lol.

Looking forward to seeing you take on Die Fohlen as they are my favourite German team.

 

[Chonky Panda Tactics]

Congrats on completing your awesome journey! Has been a rollercoaster of a ride and loved reading it all, from the journey with the team, the home life with Beth, and of course the brilliant twist with Harry. Must say, I believe Matt & Keith are great as the comic reliefs! My West Ham save both started and ended pretty quickly in comparison lol.

Looking forward to seeing you take on Die Fohlen as they are my favourite German team.

Thanks, Dan, I’m so pleased to hear you’ve enjoyed it as much as you have, though less pleased that your West Ham career went up in smoke!

What a happy coincidence! I hope the success I’ve had in England can carry over to Germany and end the now-50-year wait for a Bundesliga to come back to Mönchengladbach, or it may be difficult to bounce back from - perhaps I’ll have to look through my contacts and see if anyone wants to come with me to help…