The Second Decade

[MJHendry]

Hey, I'm currently on holiday in France, and with the lack of internet, Football Manager is a no go. But, always look on the bright side as they say. I've been planning to do a story about my current FM game as soon as it got to the right point (all will become clear), and figured now was as good a time to upload what I'd written as any. It's written in the same style as http://www.fm-base.co.uk/forum/football-manager-2010-fm-stories/41906-being-bastian-bayern-munich-story.html, and hopefully this can be half as good as that one. The first couple of updates have already been written, but I will carry on once I get back.
So yeah, have a read, tell me what you think, and above all, enjoy...

1st August 2021, 5:00pm, Car

‘’A Club Legend.’’

Those were the exact words he used. The words that pushed my chest out like a proud Lion, and caused my heart to beat at double the pace when I realised what those words meant, the pressure I was under.

I had managed my beloved for ten years now. Wow, ten years. I remember that first day like a child remembers his first day of school, or like a husband would remember that first date. A nostalgic smile fell upon my face. How I had almost burst with excitement when I heard the words:

‘’The job’s yours.’’

I had driven like a madman on the way home, almost hitting an unsuspecting Seat León driver. His angered horn blasts couldn’t faze me; I had to get home to reveal the news.

Today, my wife Maria greeted me with the same hug as she did on that day ten years ago. We had met the night after winning the league title in 1998. No matter how many trophies I have won in my career, both as a player and a manager, I will always remember that year more fondly than the rest.

We headed into the city centre, took an afternoon stroll down La Rambla, before sitting down to a meal at our favourite restaurant. Pepe attended to us as usual, as he did the first time me and Maria sat down to a meal as a married couple. I laughed at his cheesy sense of humour with more gusto than I ever had before- Ten years is a **** of a milestone, you realise.

As the afternoon dimmed the lights to reveal a warm Mediterranean evening, I reflected on the last decade. I thought back to an e-mail I received from an old friend I have since forgotten the name of. It was a list of the ten most successful managers in Spain, with my name in third position. ‘That was a few years ago’, I thought to myself, ‘I wonder where I am on the list now’. It was a slightly narcissistic pondering, which Maria snapped me out of as she returned from the ladies room.

‘’What were you thinking about?’’

‘’I just can’t believe I’ve been the club’s manager for ten years…’’ My voice trailed off as I failed to stop myself from once again delving into my memory bank. Maria smiled, sat back in her seat, and allowed me to ponder.

This time, I was brought back to reality by my phone ringing. Noticing that it was Tito, and not an unknown number (They are almost always journalists, nosing around, trying to get an inside scoop), I raised my phone to my ear, barely greeting my colleague before he decided he couldn’t contain his excitement anymore.

‘’Juan, he’s signed.’’

 

[MJHendry]

8th August 2021, 1:00pm, Conference Room

A week later, I was stood in a large room, half-squinting to protect my eyes from the flashing of cameras as journalists clambered to get a snap of me and my new signing. Tito was sat down on my left, behind a microphone with the club’s famous yellow, red and blue emblem, applauding with a broad smile on his face. He knew I hated press conferences, but if you make time to answer their questions, it can become a valuable tool in terms of your widespread reputation.

I turned back to face the subject of all the media’s attention. Maxime, holding up his coveted striped shirt with the name IZQUIERDO on the back, couldn’t hide his ecstasy. I had had my eye on the French youngster for a while, and was glad to have someone to fill the void left by the ageing Cesc Fabregas. Whilst it doesn’t matter to me how old a player is, Cesc had dropped a yard of pace and wasn’t putting in the performances that a younger Cesc would have. 21 year old Maxime had been wowing French audiences for a few years. My Head Cout, Albert Valentin, informed me that ‘one day, this boy will conquer the world’. For £41.5 million, I hoped so.

Maxime answered the usual questions from the press, before the attention turned to me. Ricardo Usandizaga from Sport magazine knew me well, he had even attended my wedding some 15 years ago, and knew how to wind me up.

‘So Julio is it?’ He inquired, struggling to hide the smirk on his face.

‘Juan’, I snapped back. I played along sometimes, but I wanted to appear sincere in front of my new signing, and stamp down my authority.

Ricardo shuffled in his seat, smirk fully disappeared from his face, desperately trying to think up a question. I could see he hadn’t thought this through.

‘Erm… So ten years… Erm… How can Maxime ensure that your legacy at this club carries on?’ It was a muddled question. I wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking me, but I said the first generic comment that came into my head.

‘Maxime is a fantastic player. Even at his age, he has a lot to offer. Coming to a club like Barcelona can be tricky for some, there is a lot of pressure to win every game, a lot of pressure to win every competition. But Maxime has all the components in place to become a favourite here at Camp Nou. It’s up to him to make sure he performs when his chance comes.’ That’ll do, I thought.

Ricardo wasn’t finished. ‘And yourself, Juan? How would you like the next ten years to go?’

Ask me something interesting, I wanted to say. Press conferences are especially mundane when you’ve been in so many that you can guess the question. Writing now, I don’t remember what I said. Something about keeping up the same standard, and continuing our dominance, but the words escape me. It seems Press Conferences are so boring that you drift off even when you’re talking.

I put a halt to the Press Conference soon after. There were pre-season friendlies to prepare for, and Maxime wasn’t the only player I had signed in this summer transfer window.

I tend to do my transfer dealings all year round. If I’m sure of the player I want, and we have the finances, then why not go for it?

The rest of the signed players were promising youngsters. Recent years had seen the famous Barcelona conveyor belt of talented youth dry up somewhat, so I had looked elsewhere for additions to my youth team. I mean, why not?

It would be the first training session for the new boys, including Maxime, who followed me out of the media frenzy, past the changing rooms and out onto the pitch where he would dazzle the photographers with his skills. I wouldn’t watch. I left Tito in charge and went back to the office. The fixture lists were being released today, and I wanted to know who we were up against.

 

[MJHendry]

9th August, 11:00pm, Home

Another phone call. Tito again.

‘Alex Sandro has gone.’

This was good news. Alex Sandro had been a great servant during his time at the club, but with Marcelo Fydriszenski and £24 million signing Ranado Ndlovu playing in the same position, his time had come to leave.

‘Where did he go in the end?’

‘Lens.’

Interesting, I thought. I felt certain he would choose to go back to Brazil. Santos had made an offer and at 30, I assumed he would choose home over another challenge in a different country.

‘Another £4 million in the kitty then. Is that all?’

‘ Yes boss. Get some sleep, you’re off to America tomorrow.’

Click