Sly Old Fox
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Chapter 1 – The Dole Days
Once upon a time, there was a football manager. To be strictly accurate, there was once an unemployed man who changed his LinkedIn profile title to “football manager”. This man had no professional experience in the game as a player or coach, or any professional experience in any field for that matter. He had no shiny coaching badges or fancy sounding qualifications. He had no skills or notable attributes to speak of. He was a losing lottery ticket, an empty pint glass, an unfinished sentence. A man, so it seemed, with nothing going for him.
But what he did have was a dream. And an ill-fitting suit. And that dream was to pull himself up by the bootstraps and become the highest paid football manager in the world (of Football Manager 20). And that suit was borrowed and had to be returned in a fortnight, absolute latest, so he needed to crack on.
With just these raw materials he sat at his desk on the in-game date of 24th of June 2019 and began a quest that many called a pipe dream. Others wondered if it was evidence of a mental health crisis and perhaps something should be done. Ignoring these naysayers and medical professionals this man opened his inbox and so began the first chapter of the story of Sam Forhire – the most singularly motivated football manager the world may ever know.
Behold that blank, shiny face, vanishing jawline and oddly positioned, lifeless eyes. The implausible wig only underlines the overall impression: this guy is going places. The rules of this challenge are in fact only one rule – I have to accept any job offer that pays more that the one I currently have. Other than the only goal is make as much money as possible by whatever means available.
First things first, let’s see what’s in the inbox. Pleasantly surprised to see that despite having no present or past employment, qualifications or skills, what I do have is a PA. Some other poor fantasist I’ve roped in to go along with this madness presumably. Or just one of my multiple personalities that uses a different email account. What have you got for me Tyler Durden/“Lucy Battersby”?
All sounds great Luce. To be honest a lot of it is not going to be applicable in the short to long term, but let’s think of it as aspirational. First order of business is to put that creative writing course to good use and get a CV written up and sent out. Chelmsford, Hereford, Kidderminster, Chesterfield: I eagerly await your response. Looking at the touted leading candidates for these open positions is dispiriting. I’m up against Colin Calderwood for the Chesterfield job. That is mental. They’re in the Vanarama National, so I may need to aim lower, but even in the Vanarama North I’m up against Luis Boa Morte for the Kidderminster job. He may not have much of a reputation manager wise, but he is Luis Boa Morte and I am not. I can only hope these other candidates get better offers as pundits, or forget the date of their interviews. In an attempt to rattle Calderwood, I go public and announce my interest in the Chesterfield position.
Local journalist Barry Adams takes the bait. Hopefully he is not a journalist in the same sense that I am a manager. Given that I created the speculation it only seems fair to address it. Patch him through Lucy. OK, hand me the phone then. How to answer the question though? Act the part, be the part. I respond to Barry cautiously (I still have doubts he actually works for BBC Sheffield):
It’s nice to hear your name being linked with high-profile jobs as it means someone somewhere thinks highly of you. I won’t rule anything out.
Better move fast Chesterfield, someone somewhere (me here) thinks highly of me.
Next a call comes in from Darren Naylor, who claims to work for Football365. Are you at all concerned at being a little rusty when you do land a job? I like the use of the word ‘when’ there Darren. You’re alright pal. Although you might want to brush up on your research skills, as I’m not sure ‘rusty’ applies here. That suggests I’ve not worked for a while, whereas I have never worked. I’m not a rusty tool, I’m fresh out the box. A shiny new tool. I tell him I’m looking forward to getting stuck in. Along with the tool analogy that should give him enough material to write a humorous paragraph. You’re welcome.
What a stitch up. That’s the last call I accept from you Naylor.
Hereford, Chelmsford and Kidderminster all decline to offer me an interview. Lucy sends me a short message to tell me there are no suitable job vacancies for me followed by a shrugging man emoji. This might be a short-lived challenge. And it’s an unsurprising no from Chesterfield. They do offer a bit more context than the others, adding that despite my not making the shortlist, the board would like to place on record that they feel you would have been an acceptable fit for the club’s somewhat scaled back vision for the future. Ouch.
There are now literally no managerial jobs available. I am one month into the challenge.
Once upon a time, there was a football manager. To be strictly accurate, there was once an unemployed man who changed his LinkedIn profile title to “football manager”. This man had no professional experience in the game as a player or coach, or any professional experience in any field for that matter. He had no shiny coaching badges or fancy sounding qualifications. He had no skills or notable attributes to speak of. He was a losing lottery ticket, an empty pint glass, an unfinished sentence. A man, so it seemed, with nothing going for him.
But what he did have was a dream. And an ill-fitting suit. And that dream was to pull himself up by the bootstraps and become the highest paid football manager in the world (of Football Manager 20). And that suit was borrowed and had to be returned in a fortnight, absolute latest, so he needed to crack on.
With just these raw materials he sat at his desk on the in-game date of 24th of June 2019 and began a quest that many called a pipe dream. Others wondered if it was evidence of a mental health crisis and perhaps something should be done. Ignoring these naysayers and medical professionals this man opened his inbox and so began the first chapter of the story of Sam Forhire – the most singularly motivated football manager the world may ever know.
Behold that blank, shiny face, vanishing jawline and oddly positioned, lifeless eyes. The implausible wig only underlines the overall impression: this guy is going places. The rules of this challenge are in fact only one rule – I have to accept any job offer that pays more that the one I currently have. Other than the only goal is make as much money as possible by whatever means available.
First things first, let’s see what’s in the inbox. Pleasantly surprised to see that despite having no present or past employment, qualifications or skills, what I do have is a PA. Some other poor fantasist I’ve roped in to go along with this madness presumably. Or just one of my multiple personalities that uses a different email account. What have you got for me Tyler Durden/“Lucy Battersby”?
All sounds great Luce. To be honest a lot of it is not going to be applicable in the short to long term, but let’s think of it as aspirational. First order of business is to put that creative writing course to good use and get a CV written up and sent out. Chelmsford, Hereford, Kidderminster, Chesterfield: I eagerly await your response. Looking at the touted leading candidates for these open positions is dispiriting. I’m up against Colin Calderwood for the Chesterfield job. That is mental. They’re in the Vanarama National, so I may need to aim lower, but even in the Vanarama North I’m up against Luis Boa Morte for the Kidderminster job. He may not have much of a reputation manager wise, but he is Luis Boa Morte and I am not. I can only hope these other candidates get better offers as pundits, or forget the date of their interviews. In an attempt to rattle Calderwood, I go public and announce my interest in the Chesterfield position.
Local journalist Barry Adams takes the bait. Hopefully he is not a journalist in the same sense that I am a manager. Given that I created the speculation it only seems fair to address it. Patch him through Lucy. OK, hand me the phone then. How to answer the question though? Act the part, be the part. I respond to Barry cautiously (I still have doubts he actually works for BBC Sheffield):
It’s nice to hear your name being linked with high-profile jobs as it means someone somewhere thinks highly of you. I won’t rule anything out.
Better move fast Chesterfield, someone somewhere (me here) thinks highly of me.
Next a call comes in from Darren Naylor, who claims to work for Football365. Are you at all concerned at being a little rusty when you do land a job? I like the use of the word ‘when’ there Darren. You’re alright pal. Although you might want to brush up on your research skills, as I’m not sure ‘rusty’ applies here. That suggests I’ve not worked for a while, whereas I have never worked. I’m not a rusty tool, I’m fresh out the box. A shiny new tool. I tell him I’m looking forward to getting stuck in. Along with the tool analogy that should give him enough material to write a humorous paragraph. You’re welcome.
What a stitch up. That’s the last call I accept from you Naylor.
Hereford, Chelmsford and Kidderminster all decline to offer me an interview. Lucy sends me a short message to tell me there are no suitable job vacancies for me followed by a shrugging man emoji. This might be a short-lived challenge. And it’s an unsurprising no from Chesterfield. They do offer a bit more context than the others, adding that despite my not making the shortlist, the board would like to place on record that they feel you would have been an acceptable fit for the club’s somewhat scaled back vision for the future. Ouch.
There are now literally no managerial jobs available. I am one month into the challenge.
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