The Prodigal Son: A Manchester United Story
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Chapter 20:
31st December, 2011
Circle Club, Manchester
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is something we call, a ground breaker, breaker...”
“OK, who let Rio choose the soundtrack?” I yelled out over the din. The Circle Club was, for one night only, the home of Manchester United – we’d booked it out for the New Year’s bash.
“Ah, si. Funny one boss” Jesus replied, with a laugh. The Spaniard had really settled in since his summer move, and he looked every part of the team. Albeit with a beautiful Spanish model hanging off one arm, and a garish suit that wouldn’t look out of place in The Sopranos. Typical Spaniard, always a show-off. I turned to Alice, who looked spectacular.
“You ok?” I asked. She’d been up and down since the crash, and these highs and lows could really be extreme. From a person full of life one moment, to a shaking, sobbing wreck the next.
“Yeah, really, I’m OK. Just enjoy yourself Dan, stop worrying about me for just one night” She replied, with a huge grin. She pointed across the club.
“Ain’t that one of the players you invited?”
I followed her point to a sheepish figure in the corner, who looked a little uncomfortable.
“Yeah” I answered. “Hey! ALEX!” I shouted. He looked up, saw me wave and walked over. He stood there shaking my hand as he started speaking.
“Thanks for inviting me ahead of my move, Mr Newton.” Alex Smithies was my replacement for Anders Lindegaard. The Dane had returned home due to “Homesickness” and, to the understanding of most of us, wasn’t going to return. When I heard the England U20 keeper was unhappy at Huddersfield, I swooped, netting the lad for just under £800’000. A good price for such a talent.
“Please, Alex, just call me Dan. I’m not officially your boss until tomorrow!” I smiled, and Alex walked off toward Danny Welbeck, who was waving him over.
As the clock neared the end of 2011, Nemanja walked over. “Boss, me and a couple of the others want you to make a speech, you know, for a bit of inspiration toward the next year?” He waved toward the DJ and the music cut. A cheer gave out from the players as I jumped onto the stage.
“OK lads, we sit top at Christmas, always a good sign – We’re in the knockouts of the Champions’ League as well as the Carling Cup semis. If we want it, the quadruple is there for the taking, beating City last week was only the start. We’re top, and we want it to stay that way! And it will, you are all Manchester United players! You are the conquerors of the so-called squeaky-***-time! Never fazed, never faltering! You guys can and will make the club proud!”
An almighty roar, louder than the music that had kicked back in, went up as I stepped off. Jack Rodwell put his arm round me, proclaiming “Great one boss, great one!” – whilst drinking straight from the bottle of champagne in his right hand. I walked over to Alice, who was beaming.
“You were brilliant!” She said as she stood from the table and flung her arms around me. I returned the kiss she gave me, then looked up suddenly as I heard a shout.
“What is it?” She asked.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
I strode over to the noise. A clearly wasted Nani was being held back by Vidic, as he struggled against the big Serb.
“What the **** is going on?” I yelled at the drunken Portuguese winger.
“He bottled me for no ******* reason, boss” I looked over to see Tom Cleverley with a nasty-looking cut above his eye.
“OI!” I towered over the former Lisbon winger. “Get the **** out of my sight! I want you gone from this club by morning, and don’t bother coming back! You aren’t fit to wear the shirt! After all I defended you in the press – gave excuses for your bad form, and you do this?! Just get him out of here, Nemanja”
As he led the soon to be ex-United player out of the door, I crashed back in the seat behind me.
Jesus, why can’t anything ever be simple?
31st December, 2011
Circle Club, Manchester
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is something we call, a ground breaker, breaker...”
“OK, who let Rio choose the soundtrack?” I yelled out over the din. The Circle Club was, for one night only, the home of Manchester United – we’d booked it out for the New Year’s bash.
“Ah, si. Funny one boss” Jesus replied, with a laugh. The Spaniard had really settled in since his summer move, and he looked every part of the team. Albeit with a beautiful Spanish model hanging off one arm, and a garish suit that wouldn’t look out of place in The Sopranos. Typical Spaniard, always a show-off. I turned to Alice, who looked spectacular.
“You ok?” I asked. She’d been up and down since the crash, and these highs and lows could really be extreme. From a person full of life one moment, to a shaking, sobbing wreck the next.
“Yeah, really, I’m OK. Just enjoy yourself Dan, stop worrying about me for just one night” She replied, with a huge grin. She pointed across the club.
“Ain’t that one of the players you invited?”
I followed her point to a sheepish figure in the corner, who looked a little uncomfortable.
“Yeah” I answered. “Hey! ALEX!” I shouted. He looked up, saw me wave and walked over. He stood there shaking my hand as he started speaking.
“Thanks for inviting me ahead of my move, Mr Newton.” Alex Smithies was my replacement for Anders Lindegaard. The Dane had returned home due to “Homesickness” and, to the understanding of most of us, wasn’t going to return. When I heard the England U20 keeper was unhappy at Huddersfield, I swooped, netting the lad for just under £800’000. A good price for such a talent.
“Please, Alex, just call me Dan. I’m not officially your boss until tomorrow!” I smiled, and Alex walked off toward Danny Welbeck, who was waving him over.
As the clock neared the end of 2011, Nemanja walked over. “Boss, me and a couple of the others want you to make a speech, you know, for a bit of inspiration toward the next year?” He waved toward the DJ and the music cut. A cheer gave out from the players as I jumped onto the stage.
“OK lads, we sit top at Christmas, always a good sign – We’re in the knockouts of the Champions’ League as well as the Carling Cup semis. If we want it, the quadruple is there for the taking, beating City last week was only the start. We’re top, and we want it to stay that way! And it will, you are all Manchester United players! You are the conquerors of the so-called squeaky-***-time! Never fazed, never faltering! You guys can and will make the club proud!”
An almighty roar, louder than the music that had kicked back in, went up as I stepped off. Jack Rodwell put his arm round me, proclaiming “Great one boss, great one!” – whilst drinking straight from the bottle of champagne in his right hand. I walked over to Alice, who was beaming.
“You were brilliant!” She said as she stood from the table and flung her arms around me. I returned the kiss she gave me, then looked up suddenly as I heard a shout.
“What is it?” She asked.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
I strode over to the noise. A clearly wasted Nani was being held back by Vidic, as he struggled against the big Serb.
“What the **** is going on?” I yelled at the drunken Portuguese winger.
“He bottled me for no ******* reason, boss” I looked over to see Tom Cleverley with a nasty-looking cut above his eye.
“OI!” I towered over the former Lisbon winger. “Get the **** out of my sight! I want you gone from this club by morning, and don’t bother coming back! You aren’t fit to wear the shirt! After all I defended you in the press – gave excuses for your bad form, and you do this?! Just get him out of here, Nemanja”
As he led the soon to be ex-United player out of the door, I crashed back in the seat behind me.
Jesus, why can’t anything ever be simple?
H
hughesman
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AHHHH next update dude, this is awesome
Icumfigovan
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Any British rock/indie music then go for it 
The world fell sideward as I felt myself hurtle to the right. Jumping up, I notice congratulations, praise. I steady myself and leap up as the ball comes in. Then it happens. Flashes of red, white, green, black. Shouting. Then pain, endless pain. And the sensation of falling...
Chapter 21:
6th January, 2012.
Salford, Manchester.
I awoke with a start. The dreams again, I mused. Glancing across, Alice sighed softly in her sleep, and beyond her, the clock burned the time in red digital numbers against the darkness. 5:52 AM. Only twelve hours since Nani had left the club in a £16m move to Premier rivals Chelsea. I sat up and rubbed my eyes as I headed to the bathroom. The last few days had knackered me more that the last 4 months.
As the morning wore on I decided to wander up to OT before work. The 5 minutes by car quickly became 15 minutes walking, and the cold January air would help revive me. Plugging my iPod headphones into my ears and selecting The Vaccines, I hit play.
Her minds made up, she don’t wanna go steady! She’s only 17 so she’s probably not ready!
Another new lad had joined us the day before, Joe Riley. The England U20 right-back had been one of the few Bolton players to show some fight when we’d thrashed them back in November. I snapped him up for less than half a million within a week of the game, and his move cleared for him to join last week. As I neared Sir Matt Busby way, I realised we had the FA Cup 3rd round tie coming up against Burton Albion. A chance for the younger lads to prove themselves, I imagined. I looked up at the statue of the man himself as I neared the ground. I hoped I was making him proud.
As I walked into reception, I heard my name being called.
“Mr Newton? You have a call waiting in your office.” It was Lisa Bowles, the new twenty-something receptionist.
“Thanks Lisa, I’ll grab a coffee first. Tell whoever it is I’ll be about 20 minutes.” I couldn’t help but stare as she walked away. She had it all, good looks, brains, a great pair of –
I snapped out of it as I gave myself a mental scalding. You’ve got a ******* fiancée.
As I sat down at my desk with a lukewarm cup of coffee, I checked the phone. International line. Quite obviously some other top European team trying to snap up Pogba or Morrison.
“Hello?” I asked, as I picked up the handset.
“Ah, Herr Newton. Schließlich. I wish to discuss your price for the Mexican Torres, on behalf of Bayern München.“ Jupp Heynckes‘ thick Bavarian tones seeped through the speaker.
“Sorry, Jupp. He’s not for sale. However... I, ah“ Dave Friio entered as I spoke and handed me a dossier. “The young German, Toni Kroos. How much would you be willing to talk? £18m?“ I could go much higher, however, I didn’t want Jupp to know that.
“Nein, nein. Too low. Maybe a price of, say, Funfundzwanzig Million?“
Twenty-five million. Steep, but the lad had unquestionable talent. A true box-to-box mid, could defend, run the play or score goals. At only 22 as well. One thing was for certain. Even at £25m, his value was only going one way. Up.
“You have a deal there, Jupp. Get his agent to e-mail me contract details.“ And with that, I hung up. Grinning from ear to ear, I looked up at Friio.
“Good news, boss?“ He asked.
“The best.“
Chapter 21:
6th January, 2012.
Salford, Manchester.
I awoke with a start. The dreams again, I mused. Glancing across, Alice sighed softly in her sleep, and beyond her, the clock burned the time in red digital numbers against the darkness. 5:52 AM. Only twelve hours since Nani had left the club in a £16m move to Premier rivals Chelsea. I sat up and rubbed my eyes as I headed to the bathroom. The last few days had knackered me more that the last 4 months.
As the morning wore on I decided to wander up to OT before work. The 5 minutes by car quickly became 15 minutes walking, and the cold January air would help revive me. Plugging my iPod headphones into my ears and selecting The Vaccines, I hit play.
Her minds made up, she don’t wanna go steady! She’s only 17 so she’s probably not ready!
Another new lad had joined us the day before, Joe Riley. The England U20 right-back had been one of the few Bolton players to show some fight when we’d thrashed them back in November. I snapped him up for less than half a million within a week of the game, and his move cleared for him to join last week. As I neared Sir Matt Busby way, I realised we had the FA Cup 3rd round tie coming up against Burton Albion. A chance for the younger lads to prove themselves, I imagined. I looked up at the statue of the man himself as I neared the ground. I hoped I was making him proud.
As I walked into reception, I heard my name being called.
“Mr Newton? You have a call waiting in your office.” It was Lisa Bowles, the new twenty-something receptionist.
“Thanks Lisa, I’ll grab a coffee first. Tell whoever it is I’ll be about 20 minutes.” I couldn’t help but stare as she walked away. She had it all, good looks, brains, a great pair of –
I snapped out of it as I gave myself a mental scalding. You’ve got a ******* fiancée.
As I sat down at my desk with a lukewarm cup of coffee, I checked the phone. International line. Quite obviously some other top European team trying to snap up Pogba or Morrison.
“Hello?” I asked, as I picked up the handset.
“Ah, Herr Newton. Schließlich. I wish to discuss your price for the Mexican Torres, on behalf of Bayern München.“ Jupp Heynckes‘ thick Bavarian tones seeped through the speaker.
“Sorry, Jupp. He’s not for sale. However... I, ah“ Dave Friio entered as I spoke and handed me a dossier. “The young German, Toni Kroos. How much would you be willing to talk? £18m?“ I could go much higher, however, I didn’t want Jupp to know that.
“Nein, nein. Too low. Maybe a price of, say, Funfundzwanzig Million?“
Twenty-five million. Steep, but the lad had unquestionable talent. A true box-to-box mid, could defend, run the play or score goals. At only 22 as well. One thing was for certain. Even at £25m, his value was only going one way. Up.
“You have a deal there, Jupp. Get his agent to e-mail me contract details.“ And with that, I hung up. Grinning from ear to ear, I looked up at Friio.
“Good news, boss?“ He asked.
“The best.“
Another great update mate! It's been a joy to read!
Make sure you save your game in two places
Got it saved 8 times on a pc, laptop and various pendrives. It aint going anywhere
There'll only be 1 season this year, but I will be continuing it on FM 13 with a database edited to the same result