[FM13] Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is: The Tetradecagon

Cardiff City Stadium

9:30pm

October 12th, 2012

The crowd was silent for a moment as the ball flew towards the goal, but it soon erupted as the Welsh fans inside Cardiff's second stadium celebrated what had seemed an unlikely win not one hour ago. As the Welsh celebrated, the Scottish fans inside the stadium both in the away end, and indeed dotted in and around the home fans too, hung their heads. A defeat had seemed unthinkable before the game, not to a Welsh team who, on paper, seemed far inferior. Stephen Smith turned to his friend beside him and leaned in to be heard above the noise. "This is the bottom," he said simply while applauding what he had to admit was a fantastic solo goal. It was going to be a long night on the streets of Cardiff.

Cardiff City Center

1:00am

October 13th, 2012

"He has to go," the large man in the Glengarry hat said simply, leaning back in his chair and draining a sizeable amount of his pint.

"But who have we got to replace him?" Stephen shrugged. He had no idea what the man's name was, having only met him an hour earlier on the streets of Cardiff. He and a friend had joined Stephen and Pete for a few drinks, and the conversation had very quickly turned dour and negative.

"I couldnae care!" the large man's pal replied animatedly, looking like he hadn't been a stranger to a few mind-altering substances earlier in the night, "Any **** wid dae! All ah know is we're gaun tae Belgium on Tuesday and we're gonnae get pumped!"

The table nodded in silence, they knew he was right about what would happen in Brussels midweek, especially with a performance like they had seen earlier that evening. As another pint was drained, Stephen and Pete got up to get their round, avoiding any celebrating Welshmen like the plague.

"What do you think will happen to Levein?" Pete asked, signalling for the same again.

"Probably nothing. The SFA won't sack him tonight - he'll have at least until Belgium, and probably beyond," Stephen shook his head, "I tell you, the guy over there had a point: I could do better than Levein with all my Football Manager expertise!"

Pete shook his head and gave a rueful smile. He had never quite "got" the appeal of the game Stephen called a drug, despite being a fan of football. He knew the ins and outs of his friend's careers over the years though - his exploits with Man United; his managing of Stockport County from Conference to Champions League winners and everything in-between; and his determination to win the World Cup with Scotland. He felt like he'd been there with him, but he suspected that there was a big difference between Football Manager and real life.

"Aye, you do that, pal," Pete said, patting him sarcastically on the back, "And while you're at it, buy a lottery ticket for tomorrow night, you'll need it for all that managerial globe-trotting you'll be doing!"

As they shuffled back to the table with their round, they had no idea that within a few days, they would get to see just how different.

Cardiff International Airport

9:00am

October 14th, 2012

Stephen felt rough. Like really rough. He wasn't sure what the Welsh put in their drinks, but after two days of pretty much solid drinking, he was willing to bet that whatever it was, it should be banned. He had stupidly booked a return flight to Glasgow for 11:00am, which was far too early considering they hadn't made it home until 6:00am the previous night. His head pounded and his stomach churned, but he thanked his lucky stars that he wasn't catching a high-speed train home - that journey would have probably ended him. As a man with a briefcase brushed past him, he felt a sharp pain in his wrist. He winced and squeezed it tenderly, feeling like there was a ring of bruising right around it. He took a moment to think where that had come from, and then remembered his ill-advised battle with a bouncer the night before. On trying to defend a fair lady from being thrown out, he himself had been, rather more roughly than she had. He thought at least he'd get lucky for his act of chivalry, but alas no. He chuckled to himself. It had been a fantastic night, making him forget all about the terrible result of Friday night.

As he thought back to that game, he started to recall some of his later boastings of how he could be the greatest manager of all time, and that all other managers - including Jose Mourinho and Alex Ferguson - were all idiots and completely useless. He had drunkenly put on a lottery ticket with a series of themed numbers, starting with the number 1, which was where he claimed he was destined for. Of course it was bravado, but as he stared up at the departures board awaiting his flight, he couldn't help but let his mind wander. Being a football manager would certainly be more exciting than his day job, and he would get to see parts of the World he had no chance of otherwise seeing. It would certainly be some life.

The buzzing of his mobile phone shook him from his daydreams. As he pulled it out, he imagined it was Pete reminding him of several heinous things he had done the night before. He was half right.

The message simply stated " 1 - 8 - 9 - 19 - 28 - 29 ". His numbers.

He checked the Lotto website with trembling hands, and couldn't quite believe his eyes when it was confirmed. He had won. Alcoholic boasting had paid off. He was probably now a millionaire. Millions of thoughts raced through his head, but in the end, one single thought pushed its way to the foreground.

He signed off a quick message to Pete telling him to meet him at the airport and then glanced back up at the departures board. This was the first day of the rest of his life - his life as a football manager.

So after that short introduction, I imagine most of you get the picture. This is my first foray into the world of FMCU, and I decided to get the intro out early, because I'm pretty much certain what my first challenge in FM13 is going to be. It's the Tetradecagon.

For the unenlightened, the TDC as I'll call it is basically a bastardised Pentagon. You have the usual five club Champions Leagues, along with the World Club Championships as your club bread and butter. Then you have the added challenge of picking up the main International Competitions too. The final list is as follows...

UEFA European Championships

FIFA World cup

Oceania Nations Cup

African Cup of Nations

Asian Nations Cup

Copa America

Gold Cup

FIFA Confederations Cup

UEFA Champions League

AFC Champions League

CAF Champions League

CONCACAF Champions League

Copa Libertadores

FIFA World Club Championship

It's quite a list, and one that has already beaten me in FM12. I managed six competitions before the save got just too slow to manage, but I already had half an eye on 13, and I intend to complete it this time, and then some.

As you may have guessed from my opening gambit, my manager will be Stephen Smith, a disillusioned twenty-something Scotsman who thinks he can do better than the national manager. He likes a drink, doesn't mind a fight, but is generally a pretty good guy to be around. I'll be writing this story as a king of half-way house between the usual update style and the story format of the first post, but reserve the right to chop, change and then completely drop one of these. You have been warned.

Where will I start? Well, I guess we'll find that out tomorrow once my FM13 quest begins...

The official game isn't out yet!

The official game isn't out yet!

This.

Plus, i am failing to see the point of the first post? There is a section for stories, and this ain't it.

Well don't I feel silly...

I apologise - will relocate to the other area, wasn't aware there was a separate forum for more story-driven.

And I know the game isn't out yet, but it will be tomorrow, and I was bored right now so thought I would get the ball rolling. A fail on several parts.

ETA: Is there any rule against having a thread in both stories and here, one totally story based and the other just the plain old career updates?