Before I start I would like to say this was inspired by Memiors of a Slovak by Kris and the aim is really to have a good fictional story where in I can control the personal life of the manager completely but the footballing world is a complete unknown so there is no guarantee of a happy ending. I will post the occasional screenshot but my main aim is to captivate you with words and put you in the life of Nathaniel Bond, I hope you will follow and enjoy. I accept constructive criticism and look forward to feedback. Now lets start this journey. Who is Nathaniel Bond?
My confidence surprised everybody including myself. I handled the questions fired at me superbly. My first press conference as Barnet manager and I was surrounded by an aura of youthful enthusiasm. I was relishing the opportunity to display my skills I had been gaining from the days of my youth; I can recall countless hours spent playing management simulation games. As my chairman Tony Kleanthous talked to the press about this fresh start for all parties involved I reflected on the events that led up to this day.
I was in ‘The White Lion’ a local pub in Barnet guzzling down a couple of pints with the lads. Sky Sports News was on the TV.
Georgie Thompson: “Breaking news from Barnet F.C., we understand that caretaker manager Paul Fairclough has been sacked after a bust up with a director.”
Gobsmacked. Robert, Francis, Gary and I just sat in silence. We were all season ticket holders and die hard Bees fans. It could have been the alcohol in my system or just one fan with a dream, but I stood up and boldly claimed to my friends I would be the next manager of Barnet F.C., naturally they just laughed it off, but that night as I lay in my bed I began meticulously planning my bold face move to become the new manager of my local team.
I awoke at 6am. Went for a jog. Took a shower. Ate Weetabix. I remember every last detail as if it were yesterday. I put on my favourite suit, left a message at work that I had pressing issues to sort out and would be in after lunch. I left my house at 8.30am and drove my brand new 2010 plate all black A3 to Underhill, the Stadium of Barnet. I strode in a little after 9, 9.02am to be precise (I took the time to glance at my all black Casio G-Shock) and approached the front desk.
“Good morning Miss, my name is Nathaniel Bond and I am here to make Mr. Kleanthous an offer he will not refuse”.
A cute, blonde haired young lady looked up
“Do you have an appointment with Mr. Kleanthous”? She asked
“I do not actually have an appointment but I only want 5 minutes of his time to pitch an idea to him”
“Hmm...” She raised a eyebrow and pondered,
“Please just ask him if he is willing to see me”
She picked up the phone and spoke to Barnet’s Chairman Mr. Kleanthous, after which she rose from here seat and instructed me to follow her. I followed a stride or two behind so I could admire her beautiful figure; I almost forget why I was at Underhill I shook my head to regain focus. We arrived at the Chairman’s office, the young lady opened the door smiled at me and said
“Good luck with your offer”.
I drew breath and entered.
“Mr. Kleanthous before you say anything I would like to say I am a life long, and die hard Bees fan, and the old saying goes if you want something done right do it yourself. So I am here pleading with you make me the new manager of Barnet. I took FA coaching courses in college and have Sunday league management experience, I know it is really out there but this club needs a new approach and someone who has the club at heart”.
I took a deep breath and awaited what I thought would be instant rejection.
The next thing I remember is Mr. Kleanthous standing over me with a glass of water, for you see I blacked out as soon as I heard Mr. Kleanthous say
“You know what? I’m going to give you a shot”.
The next couple of hours were surreal. The chairman called his accountant up and between the 3 of us a contract was drawn up. I was handed a one year deal at £775 a week. Mr. Kleanthous told me that he would call a press conference for tomorrow morning. He also told me to call him Tony, ‘Mr Kleanthous is my father’.
As I left Underhill I approached the front desk once more,
“It was nice meeting you....”
“Melissa” the blonde replied
“Miss Melissa, I look forward to working with you” I winked and left a noticeable swagger in my step. Though I didn’t glance round my ego assumes she was watching me leave.
I snapped back to reality when I heard the ripple of applause (mainly from Rob, Francis and Gary) as the conference was drawn to a close.
“The hard work begins now “, Tony whispered in my ear.
My confidence surprised everybody including myself. I handled the questions fired at me superbly. My first press conference as Barnet manager and I was surrounded by an aura of youthful enthusiasm. I was relishing the opportunity to display my skills I had been gaining from the days of my youth; I can recall countless hours spent playing management simulation games. As my chairman Tony Kleanthous talked to the press about this fresh start for all parties involved I reflected on the events that led up to this day.
I was in ‘The White Lion’ a local pub in Barnet guzzling down a couple of pints with the lads. Sky Sports News was on the TV.
Georgie Thompson: “Breaking news from Barnet F.C., we understand that caretaker manager Paul Fairclough has been sacked after a bust up with a director.”
Gobsmacked. Robert, Francis, Gary and I just sat in silence. We were all season ticket holders and die hard Bees fans. It could have been the alcohol in my system or just one fan with a dream, but I stood up and boldly claimed to my friends I would be the next manager of Barnet F.C., naturally they just laughed it off, but that night as I lay in my bed I began meticulously planning my bold face move to become the new manager of my local team.
I awoke at 6am. Went for a jog. Took a shower. Ate Weetabix. I remember every last detail as if it were yesterday. I put on my favourite suit, left a message at work that I had pressing issues to sort out and would be in after lunch. I left my house at 8.30am and drove my brand new 2010 plate all black A3 to Underhill, the Stadium of Barnet. I strode in a little after 9, 9.02am to be precise (I took the time to glance at my all black Casio G-Shock) and approached the front desk.
“Good morning Miss, my name is Nathaniel Bond and I am here to make Mr. Kleanthous an offer he will not refuse”.
A cute, blonde haired young lady looked up
“Do you have an appointment with Mr. Kleanthous”? She asked
“I do not actually have an appointment but I only want 5 minutes of his time to pitch an idea to him”
“Hmm...” She raised a eyebrow and pondered,
“Please just ask him if he is willing to see me”
She picked up the phone and spoke to Barnet’s Chairman Mr. Kleanthous, after which she rose from here seat and instructed me to follow her. I followed a stride or two behind so I could admire her beautiful figure; I almost forget why I was at Underhill I shook my head to regain focus. We arrived at the Chairman’s office, the young lady opened the door smiled at me and said
“Good luck with your offer”.
I drew breath and entered.
“Mr. Kleanthous before you say anything I would like to say I am a life long, and die hard Bees fan, and the old saying goes if you want something done right do it yourself. So I am here pleading with you make me the new manager of Barnet. I took FA coaching courses in college and have Sunday league management experience, I know it is really out there but this club needs a new approach and someone who has the club at heart”.
I took a deep breath and awaited what I thought would be instant rejection.
The next thing I remember is Mr. Kleanthous standing over me with a glass of water, for you see I blacked out as soon as I heard Mr. Kleanthous say
“You know what? I’m going to give you a shot”.
The next couple of hours were surreal. The chairman called his accountant up and between the 3 of us a contract was drawn up. I was handed a one year deal at £775 a week. Mr. Kleanthous told me that he would call a press conference for tomorrow morning. He also told me to call him Tony, ‘Mr Kleanthous is my father’.
As I left Underhill I approached the front desk once more,
“It was nice meeting you....”
“Melissa” the blonde replied
“Miss Melissa, I look forward to working with you” I winked and left a noticeable swagger in my step. Though I didn’t glance round my ego assumes she was watching me leave.
I snapped back to reality when I heard the ripple of applause (mainly from Rob, Francis and Gary) as the conference was drawn to a close.
“The hard work begins now “, Tony whispered in my ear.
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