Stirred, not shaken but with olive - a potential FM 2017 (yes, really!) AAR, if someone is interested in

[Sappho]

Good morning, beloved FM lovers!

I started to play the SI FM 2017 as my sons played newer versions.  Normally, I play PC games like Crusader Kings, Civilisation or Europa Universalis. However, as my both sons play football in a small Club here in Germany I am a bit involved in football and tried it, I mean the PC game, not the real thing. My sport is/was something complete different.  I like it ... and I wrote an AAR about my first steps with it in a German forum.

Now, I got the insane idea to translate that into English as the scenario is in the UK. I manage the Poole Town FC. So, the setting for the story - it is lots of story . is that a German female mangement consultant becomes the manager(ess) of Poole Town FC

 

LOL

 

Yes, weird ... and the story is also a bit weird. I play with all kinds of stereotypes . Do you want to read it?

 

Edited January 30 by Sappho

[Sappho]

Ok .... even without any reaction I will give it a try ...

 

CAVEAT

 

The whole story and all persons are completely fictious. Even if names relate to existing persons the persons of my story are completely fictious and have nothing to do with the real persons.

Edited February 2 by Sappho

[Sappho]

Prologue

 

 

I groaned.

An email had just arrived from my divorce lawyer. The ex suddenly refused to implement the divorce agreements and transfer the house to me. The ex had vacated the house where he was listed in the land register, but wanted to use it himself and claimed damages for hotel accommodation. More trouble was to be expected. And then this project I was working on. An English distillery wanted a new business concept for the distribution of its gin in Germany and had chosen the management consultancy where I worked as a manager for this purpose. The company's finances were very opaque. There were many loans extended to other companies. Time was short. If my colleague Dr. Möllenkamp hadn't taken over the review of these loans, I would never have finished. Then my mother called because of problems with the children she was looking after. And finally the boss had to decide who should become the next partner in this management consultancy, colleague Dr. Möllenkamp or me, Gudrun Michalke, 40 years old, recently divorced, 3 children, management consultant. Probably wanted Dr. Möllenkamp demonstrate “team spirit” through his support in order to position himself better. He urgently needed that, because in the past he had proven to be more of an egomaniacal colleague with a slightly macho attitude. So far, “helpfulness” has not been his core competency, but rather the use of elbows with or without spikes. But I couldn't be picky in my situation and was happy with the support. Maybe Dr. Möllenkamp also felt guilty because he had previously taken assistants away from me and thus increased my time pressure.

A knock on the door to my office brought me out of my thoughts. It was Dr. Möllenkamp. Möllenkamp, early 40s, dynamic, wiry, quite good-looking, black-haired. He was such a Southern-European type of man. Basically my prey pattern but always dressed a touch too fashionably for my taste, a little too noisy, too tidy and unmasking his macho attitude with inappropriate jokes. And with high heels I was a little taller than him. Little men weren't like that in my world either. “Gudrun,” - of course people were on first name terms here, they were modern, avant-garde and always at the forefront, at least officially and in announcements, even if a few gentlemen here sometimes fellt back into poorly disguised atavistic behavior patterns out of sheer conceited coolness and laughed loudly at gentlemen's jokes and physical characteristics of the female employees when they thought they were undisturbed. Möllenkamp was one of those people, as was our boss, Dr. Behringer.

“I looked at it. The debtors should be fine. I couldn't see anything unusual except that larger amounts were awarded to 5 companies in the area. But they also seem to be inconspicuous. The claims are therefore likely to have value. I hope that's enough for your report for now. I’ll pass on my report to you later!”, Dr. Möllenkamp said.  “Yes, thank you very much, Frank, that helps me a lot. Thank you for stepping in!” “For my pretty favorite colleague always. It was a celebration!” Dr. Möllenkampf smiled a bit complacant. There it was again… as if I needed his compliments. But he had helped me out of trouble. So I smiled back as kindly as I could and murmured another “thank you.” Then he was gone again.

I stuck behind my concept again and finally finished it late in the evening. Another click and wow…. The email went to boss Dr. Paul Behringer. Tired and somewhat satisfied, I cleared the field and headed home, where Mom had hopefully already put the gang of children to bed. Well…Dr. Behringer could just rely on his best horse in the stable, I thought to myself and was a little proud to have done it again. Maybe we could get more business from the UK this way?

However, everything would develop completely differently.

Edited February 2 by Sappho

[bigmattb28]

You had me at FM17

[Sappho]

Prologue II

 

 

 

 

The next few days I tried to get the documentation for the debtors and creditors but Dr. Möllenkamp and his buddy assistant were not there and were on vacation, as the secretary told me. He hadn't sent me anything and there was nothing in the network folder created for the project. What did that mean? Did he do nothing at all and just tell me something like that? I had bad thoughts. I started to take a closer look at the debtors myself. There were receivables from loans to several other British companies in the area. Then I got online commercial register extracts from the UK. The result made me trembling. The sole shareholder of this distillery was behind everything. Ohhh...that sstank like the dead skunk in the middle of the road, but it was definitely worth checking, or rather obligatory! Why didn't dear Frank tell me anything?

The ringing of the phone brought me out of my thoughts. It was the number of boss Dr. Behringer. He was tied tightly. “Ms Michalke, please come to my office…immediately!” “Yes, of course, what’s up?” was my answer. “You’ll hear about it then!” was the cool answer. Oops, that smelled like trouble, short and quiet? I went into his office and greeted Dr. Böhringer stayed with you: “Ms Michalke, I’ll get straight to the point. What were you thinking when you read the Royal Dorsetshire Distelleries business performance report?” The tone was sharp, then loud. “That’s probably the biggest **** I’ve ever experienced!” “Why is that?” I asked in consternation. “Man, man, man, how I love it when sheer ignorance looks at me here. The store seems to be on the verge of bankruptcy. And you don't need to look at the claims. I can't find anything about it in the entire network, niente, rien... nothing at all. That can not be true. You probably also think that looking pretty is enough here. But that's not how it works. Your entire concept is a waste, I couldn't publish the report as it was, the deadline was canceled and the customer canceled the mandate. And that's what I'm doing now. I hereby terminate your contract without notice, you will receive it in writing. You are now exempt. You’ll still get the usual severance pay and I don’t want to see you here again, darling!” “Yes but… Dr. Möllenkamp got the debtors...!” I didn’t get any further. Behringer shouted at me: “Möllenkamp warned me about my vacation. He received a warning about this company from English colleagues and he would have warned you too, but you snobbishly refused his help! “Whaaaaaat? I asked Möllenkamp to check the debtors and creditors and he told me on Friday that everything was OK!”

I was stunned. Möllenkamp, that scheming ferret !! (LOL I do not know a matching English insult so it is translated word to word)

" Möllenkamp was on vacation. That was his first day of vacation. Don't talk nonsense. Drop your attempts at apologizing and hiss away. And even if your accusation were true... you can't rely on an audit without any documentation. Rookie mistake! And I don't need such beginners. Bye… there’s the door… please vacate your office immediately!”

I was speechless. Möllenkamp cleverly arranged this. That asshole, that pig, that xxxxxxxx. What did I do now? Suddenly unemployed and the ex demanded the house. Well there would be a severance package. But where should I get a job? In my early 40s, dismissed without notice... no one would take me and no one would probably believe my story about Möllenkamp. Then I had a crazy idea. This stupid distillery now had a project, but no plan. I was the one who was at the deepest level of thought in the store. Maybe I could do business... new planning for little money... for the distillery, rather big things for me. So I first founded my own management consultancy - Michalke & Friends -... the friends would find each other at some point... and then called Clive Robbins, the general manager and sole shareholder of the Royal Devonshire Distilleries in Poole, Devonshire, UK. Robbins was initially a little upset about the missed deadline. But I was able to disabuse him of this very quickly by pointing out his complicated finances and asking why that was the case. I scored points with the realization that he could only have a workable plan if he made the circumstances clear. What then emerged was economically stupid, whimsical and therefore “very British”. The gentleman had used the money to indulge his personal passion as the owner of Poole Town FC and used it to sponsor the football club's promotion to the National League South, the Vanarama South . The value depended on success or failure of Poole Town FC. And so the welfare and woe of the distillery, an ancient family business, was depended on the clubs fate.

Only one thing came to mind: MEN !

Robbins was interested in getting my ex-employer's performance for my conditions, instead of € 3oo per hour, only €150. The only problem was the company's finances, those of the club and whether he could and wanted to pay me. We arranged a meeting in Poole the next week to hash things out. I had time now and mom would definitely look after the children again.

Edited February 2 by Sappho

[Sappho]

 

Prologue III

 

 

I ended up in Poole and visited the distillery's headquarters. The first impression is supposedly crucial and I dressed up for it. Dark blue sheath dress, ending just above the knee, subtle neckline, pearl necklace, dark blue pumps, high enough to look elegant, not so high that it looked frivolous, freshly styled, subtle make-up. No bright nail polish or lipstick. But I couldn't really bring myself to dress in a boring way to show off with (British) understatement, even in the current situation. I didn't consciously make myself ugly for the Brits! I was too vain for that. So continental elegant instead of tweed or paisley.

Clive Robbins turned out to be a sedate, plump gentleman over sixty, half-bald and wearing dark frame glasses that dominated his face and even overshadowed his large potato nose. The large, slightly protruding ears were also striking. He was very friendly and seemed somewhat happy to be able to talk about the company's situation. Apart from the company and the club, there was probably nothing in his life, no wife, no children. In any case, he explained the situation to me. That was honest and helped to solve the problem in that I now at least clearly knew how big his problem was. Of course, he could immediately forget about expanding to Germany or anywhere else, which I quickly made clear to him. There was only one product, the Poole Dry Gin, which he once supplied to the court, and whose charm came from the fact that Queen Mum sometimes also drank it. But that charm was already fading a lot and judging by the sales figures you could say it was already yellowing. Advertising can do everything and with the right strategy you could probably give this product some charm again, but that would take time and money and Clive didn't have either. I offered myself a few days to develop a few ideas and then I would make an offer for consulting. Clive Robbins agreed. Already on the return flight I started to think. There was no money for a campaign. So you had to trigger attention somehow differently. What do Brits care about, was the question? The answer would probably be, based on general prejudices: humour, gardening, beer, gin, fish & chips, football, betting and a love-hate relationship with Germany.

Well, I could work with that. He produces gin himself, I could bring German beer with me or he could import it, I'm German... and FOOTBALL. And then Poole was a mecca for yacht owners, right on the Channel, with a famous natural harbor. So one should also expect a paying audience. It would have to be incredible  if I couldn't get something going in terms of marketing and advertising. An idea slowly formed in my head. New wealthy groups of buyers and for them a new product that was somehow modern, stylish, avant-garde, which woke up the brittle Brits somewhat. Ha…. Of course, a calorie-reduced and/or alcohol-reduced gin that appealed to women and young people, that could be sold as “healthy”, at least as healthier and that could combine the whole thing with a woke attitude to life, elitist, avant-garde and of course high-priced. I laughed… “Godiva”, the gin for today’s confident, modern woman. But how can that be combined with football? Mmmmm…. I had to think about it again. I woke up at night with an inspiration. Of course…. the solution is me. I had no idea about football, but my boys played in the club, this SI Football Manager on the PC and constantly told me stories about how great and realistic it was, how all footballers were recorded and how small clubs used it to save scouting costs. Well...and I wasn't unathletic either. I could still teach these semi-professionals on the island fitness and strength. They would still be surprised. And I never gave up, in the dojo they called me “Wildcat” when I was doing karate. That would wake up the Tommies from their equal rights slumber. “German management consultant manages English football club!” Woman and German, if that doesn't cause an uproar and media hype among the stiff Brits, I wouldn't know what would. And then add some kind of bet. So now I had to convert the idea into a presentation and convince Clive “National Helath glasses” Robbins.

A week later I was back in Poole with Clive and presented him my ideas. He was dismayed. So, he didn't want to subject his club to any experiments. He didn't think the idea of the "Godiva" gin was bad at all and also liked my designs for the label with the naked rider, who was only partially covered by long hair. Sure... what guy wouldn't have liked that... except maybe Siegfried and Roy? But let a woman lead his team? And also a German one, which he didn't say. But I still had something up my sleeve. I knew that his manager had already quit because he had found a club that paid more and more regularly than him. I was willing to have the manager's salary counted toward my consulting fee. This saved him around € 31,000. And I would contribute part of my severance payment as a loan, but only against shares in the club and company that were to be pledged to me. And only against extensive control rights. This is how I make sure that he couldn't do any schmoozing in the club or in the company. Gritting his teeth, he agreed. A week later we signed the relevant contracts in the UK in front of a notary there. And as of July 1, 2016, I was the newly appointed manager of the Poole Town F.C.

[bigmattb28]

Enjoying this I do love a good FM story that's got a lot of detail in it.

Just a bit of advice, when you paste the text into the box, press the button that says - paste as plain text instead. It's at the bottom of the text box when you paste in.

This gets rid of those white boxes around the text you copied in.

[Sappho]

thank you for the help

[Sappho]

We are going against England

 

 

 

There was still a lot to sort out at home. Since it was unclear whether I would gain a foothold in the UK, the children were supposed to stay in Germany for now, at least for the next year. The grandparents would watch over them (and spoil the gang uninhibitedly). That was certainly suboptimal, but it couldn't be changed at the moment. I certainly wouldn't sit at home and collect unemployment benefits.

After that was sorted out, I looked for a cheap room in Poole, which turned out to be not that easy. But after some back and forth I finally found a cute house that exuded a Pilcher atmosphere. Mrs. Thornycroft, the landlady, was a widow in her seventies who wanted to rent out something for her pension, or had to, who knows for sure, and initially reacted very cautiously to the call from Germany. But “money makes the world go round” and the prospect of getting a long-term tenant convinced her. However, she also told me that men's visits after 11 p.m. were undesirable.

So that was sorted out and it went to the UK. Robbins had already done the preparatory work and prepared two new products. First the alcohol- and therefore calorie-reduced “Godiva” gin and then an alcohol-free gin. After discussion, we agreed not to overdo it and initially only bet on Lady Godiva. The product was also easier and quicker to produce. There was then a press conference in Poole in which we...well, let's say more precisely, he was there and made a friendly face...presented the new wind in the still.

I told the assembled journalists about the new, modern direction, enjoyment instead of drunkenness, health, spirit with a new spirit, new, modern and also more geared towards the woman who stands up for herself and her desires, like Lady Godiva. I was asked why we needed help from Germany. Because in order to break with traditions, you sometimes need a push from outside to overcome operational blindness and create more willingness to take new paths.

And then I let the cat out of the bag. This applies not only to spirits, but also to other areas that have previously been dominated by men, especially in the UK, such as football. Poole Town FC would also be breaking new ground, namely with me as their new manager!

Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom

First there was silence, then the questions started flooding in. Which we didn't answer in order to create maximum excitement.

The media went crazy afterwards.

Edited February 13 by Sappho

[Sappho]

Gudrun begins

 

 

Gudrun begins The media went crazy afterwards. Robins and I were overwhelmed with interview invitations and we didn't forget to always praise the new gin. It remained to be seen how the attention achieved was reflected in sales figures, and also whether the new brand “cannibalized” the old one. But the football club couldn't wait because the preparation phase for the new season began immediately. I was introduced to the club. They were promoted last season. The success had brought then manager and club legend Tom Killick offers from other clubs, one of which he accepted. The club itself has been languishing in the lower regions since its founding in the 19th century.

They probably still had the player material from the previous season, which was inexpensive but made the chances of success seem slim. The squad was small at 18 players. You definitely had to do something about it. The salary budget still allowed for a lot. But I wouldn't really see whether Robbins had calculated that realistically until the end of the season. At least he probably assessed the season perspective correctly. The aim was to fight honorably against relegation. I should probably be able to manage that.

The team was classified by the experts as a safe candidate for relegation. But the mentality seemed good. I hoped that in the lower leagues it was more about fighting spirit and fitness than technical skills. I would be able to train the boys to do that, because my strengths as an ex-ballet dancer and karateka were right there. “Find your way into the game through combat,” isn’t that what it’s called? That would be the goal. A few players caught the eye. Well, you would see. The first preparatory game against our own U23 was scheduled for July 2nd. Then maybe I would know more.

(My story is the English translation of an AAR I write in a German forum. I understand that it is not liked to add files here. In my original AAR there were here screenshots of the team. I have omitted them)

[Sappho]

Practice makes perfect,
In any case, it helps against relegation

 

 

 

 

So I got involved with the team and of course used the much-praised SI Football Manager as a textbook in addition to the information that the club itself gave me.

The team definitely needed to be strengthened. What was urgently needed was a striker, better two, as well as a central defender and a full-back. With 22 teams in the league and 2 cup competitions, the season was very long. Failures were inevitable. We wanted to act according to the mottos “The attack wins games, the defense wins competitions” and “We have to close at the back, something will be found up front” and build a defensive bulwark from which we could then quickly counterattack. The open question would be whether the team could. This was supported by the fact that the only real striker so far had a reputation for being quick.

The team had a scout. But the board approved a second one, which I quickly hired. I couldn't agree on the salary with the first candidate, but with the second candidate, Mr. Freeman, it worked out. The scouts were then sent directly to look for the desired reinforcements.

You should also have a physio, I thought.

Well, I lured him with a few bonuses.

During team training, the focus was first on fitness and then on team cohesion. For this purpose, further friendly matches were arranged every four to five days for training purposes. At the end of the preparation phase there was a cracking game as a tough test against Yeovil Town, who were playing in the 4th league, two leagues above us. Afterwards there was the club's first press conference with me as manager. I deliberately ran in a tracksuit to distract from the topic of “women – football”, which of course didn’t work. Even the BBC was there: The plan to trigger media attention was definitely a success.

In the meantime, the substitute goalkeeper showed a desire to leave, but we were able to banish it from him. Let the gods decide whether my body-hugging dress with the long side slit or the salary offer was decisive in the conversation. In any case, Rees stuck to the flag. This enabled me to prevent the first signs of dissolution.

Then it was time for the first preparatory game against our own U23 youth team, which was reinforced with some players from the first team. I ran wingbacks in the 532. The idea was to have five players in defense. Counter-attacks should run through the middle, as the players were not tall, so they were likely to be inferior in heading the ball, and the wide players in the 6th league were not particularly good at crosses.

The game wasn't an experience. It showed that there was still a lot to do. There were a few good attempts but the strikers seemed to be rather weak in finishing. You would see. In any case, the team still had to work a lot on being well-coordinated. And when I tried to motivate myself, I noticed that the players weren't taking me seriously.

Not yet!

[Sappho]

 

Rattling is part of the craft

 

 

 

The next friendly was coming up in a few days. But before that, I told my men players that 14 days of intense fitness and strength training were now in order. The looks were clear and quiet murmuring could also be heard.

What were they actually thinking about how they wanted to survive in the 6th league? With technical tricks? It became clear to me that I had to “tune in” the gang and that my gender was a relative hindrance. But I could tell the guys were underestimating me. So I thought of something. I did the first meeting with them in a figure-hugging dress with high heels. They rolled their eyes and on their faces it was written in huge letters: “*****! What do you want…go knitting!”. I scheduled the first training session for the next morning. Then I appeared in a tracksuit. It looked completely different, but of course it didn't convince any of my little machos. I smiled internally. They would still be surprised.

Then it was time to do a few stretching exercises. Of course, I chose exercises that required special flexibility and were common in ballet and karate. They were annoyed that they had to throw their legs up like that, but they were already sweating and some of them were even more annoyed that they couldn't do it as well as I could. To annoy her a little further, I did a few yoga exercises that were tough. I demonstrated them, they imitated them and then I saw a few surprised, strained faces. “Huh heh heh”, I just thought and: “Pride comes before a fall”. Then there were a few simple strength training exercises, push-ups, sit-ups, etc. and I diligently followed along and showed them off. A few became thoughtful as I stood in front of them smiling, while a few were already panting and had red faces. Then there was fitness training and I started with 10,000 meters through the forest. Well... I couldn't fool you, but at least I kept up.

I then let the coach practice football skills and went away from there. This is what it looked like for the next few days. Then the next friendly was against an amateur team as an easy sparring opponent. The team was called Totton & Elling and seemed to be significantly weaker than my U23s. This time I tried 442 attacks from the wings. That didn't seem so convincing in the game. At least we beat them quickly and painlessly 2-0. The game was not a revelation. It was a lot of piecemeal work, but it wasn't bad at the start of the preparation phase. I told the players in the dressing room that too.

The goals for the season were then set internally with Clive Robbins. I should try to avoid relegation and reach the third qualifying round of the FA Cup and FA Trophy competitions. Fighting against relegation was clear, what else... but whether the cup goals were realistic was completely beyond my knowledge. I once said “yes, sure” and would be surprised. Since Clive otherwise had rather realistic goals - apart from the fact that he sometimes looked at me for a moment too long with a dreamy dachshund look - I hoped that it would work somehow... or that I would come up with a good excuse.

Next there was a press conference. A journalist named Geoffrey Willoughby from the tabloid “Star” stood out in particular, as he wanted to push particularly hard on the topic of “women and football”. Thanks for that… that was the plan.

After presenting the targets, Willoughby spoke up and hooked the ball.

Willoughby:
“Ms. Michalke, don't you have the impression that you are endangering the club? I've heard that you limit your training to conditioning and strength alone. This was to have disastrous consequences for a Vanarama National South club. Surely you agree with me?

I
*thinking*: You little calf-biting pinscher from the provincial editorial office of a newspaper that can only be used to wrap up old fish, who do you think actually cares about this stupid league?

*smiles sweetly*
“Geoffrey, let me say Geoffrey… thank you, that’s lovely. I am fully aware of the size and importance of this task for the club, Poole and even Devon. That's why, after an in-depth analysis of the club and the league structures, I came to the conclusion that physicality is of crucial importance here.

*thinking:* Nobody here can really play football and can't teach them either.

“I am also very aware of my personal limitations in football technique. My coaching staff, which is carefully selected and whom I trust completely, takes care of this. I haven’t had any complaints or suggestions for improvement yet.”

*thinking:*

It wouldn't matter because I can't change anything anyway

*whispering*
“But Geoffrey, who was worried? I would like to discuss this in private and convince him of my concept!”

*thinking*: I'll get this sniper, contact the yellow press, he won't know whether he's male or female when I'm done with him!*

Willoughby:
“Oh… I have to protect my source. I can not say that. But technique is one thing…strategy and tactics are another. How are you going to choose match tactics and formation without any knowledge of the game?”

I:
“I think it’s a bit of a shame that you don’t trust me. But I really hope that my club management can still convince you.

*thinking*: I didn't really think you were that stupid, but you can try.

I:
“Incidentally, I think you underestimate me and women and perhaps have too much respect for the tactical demands of football in the 6th league. I am confident that, with the support of my coaching staff, I can overcome these challenges

*thinking*: Challenges, what kind of challenges? But not this Rumpelliga here, right? I don't play the Champions League or anything like that. What do you think this is? Back then, my sparring in kickboxing against Dr. Christiane Theiss, that was a challenge (which I failed, however) and to convince this old family dynasty that the family patriarch, at 80, was no longer quite up to the level of the company's requirements.

"to be able to master. I think that tactical and strategic thinking are my strengths and that I will therefore quickly find my way around here. I’m very optimistic!”

Willoughby:
“Not many fans! People are worried about the club that has just been promoted and that this great development will be destroyed by this step. Even if you came from women's football... but this is about real football, real football, men's football!"

*murmurs of agreement in the hall, my eyes become smaller and take on a slit shape, anyone who knows me knows what that means and is trolling, but “Willy” can’t know that; his bad luck*

Me (voice becomes a bit cutting):
“Mr. Willoughby, I find it really lovely how worried you are about the club. But I think you are completely misjudging yourself, football, me, women and our ability to run a club and our understanding of strategy and tactics. I would almost like to say that your comment makes it clear that your image of football and women still has something Victorian about it. But we are no longer in the 19th century, but in the 21st century. You are two centuries too late. Women certainly don't play a numerical role in football. But that's purely because most women aren't interested in the game. If they were interested in football, things would look completely different.

Willoughby:
“Ms. Maikälki…”

I:
“MICHALKE, my name is Michalke… for you foreign language phobics to repeat:
MI CHAL KE like Mee – chal – ka… Thank you very much”

Willoughby:
“Ms. Michalke... You don't seriously want to claim that a woman without any football experience can be a professional...

I:
“SEMI-PROFESSIONAL...we are not in the Premier League here...and THAT is exactly what I want to say. I can and will lead the club at least as successfully as any male manager.”

Willy's head turns red and there is a murmur in the hall

Willoughby:
“Ms. Michalke… You have no training certificate, no training…. Don't misjudge the situation completely. I bet you will fail and be fired in a few weeks!”

Approval laughter in the room

I
*thinking*: Very nice, this is the opportunity for even more attention...!*

“Geoffrey… I’ll take the bet! I bet you I won’t be sacked AND Poole Town FC won’t be relegated under my management!”

Cheers in the hall, questions about the stakes are raised, “Willy” can’t go back, neither can I, but that’s what I wanted!

I:
“I’m thinking about our new gin. If I lose, I’ll ride through Poole like Lady Godiva once did… without a long-haired wig!”

Willoughby:
“Uhh...and I...should I too...?”

I:
"Clear …. I don't want to be like that; You can also tie a thimble around it if it helps you.”

laughter in the room; “Willy” turns bright red

Willoughby:
“Good…okay…I’ll take the bet! Whoever loses rides naked through Poole!”

The press conference was lost in the excited telephone calls of everyone involved.

Robbins was shocked. But that subsided over the next few days when all the newspapers only talked about me, Godiva, his gin and Poole Town FC. His company and the new gin were well on their way to becoming cult in Poole itself. Even the BBC reported on the bet.

[dtown1414]

Good read. Shaking my head reading the press conference and laughing at the same time. 

[Sappho]

Si vis pace, para bellum

 

 

The training continued. After 2 weeks of conditioning and strength training, “team cohesion” was on the agenda because the teamwork wasn’t really working yet. Before that there was another training game, this time against the amateurs from Chippenham (not Chippendale) Park. That was won 1-0 with overwhelming superiority but poor conversion of chances. This could become a problem in the future. The scouts already had a few strikers on the hook who were training with us. We definitely brought one striker, better two, but that was more a question of finances.

My assistant Marcus Browning then gave me some bad news. Lewis “Vagr” Tallack was probably approached by the competition about a change. Since I didn't have too many defenders, I couldn't and didn't want to do without him. Ok… it didn’t really matter that he was a defender. I had a small team overall, any departure would leave a gap. So far he has only been paid for each “appearance” and was able to go very far. I summoned “Vagr” to my office and tried to persuade him to stay. In order to have planning security, I wanted to offer him a contract until 2017. He wasn't averse either. But I was probably a bit too stingy and overdid the haggling a bit. He finally refused. Well, I had to try again in a few weeks.

A few days later, Marcus Browning knocked on the door again. The players now officially complained about the training. According to Marcus “Hiob” Browning, the spokesman was probably the team boss Michael Walker. OK... I couldn't let myself be fooled here and had to take the bull by the horns.

The next morning before training started, I broached the subject.

“So Michael,” I began. “So you don’t agree with the training, did I understand that correctly?” Michael played the bold one. “Yes, ma'am... the ball technique is far too short and the gymnastics, this yoga stuff and other stuff, isn't the right thing for footballers either." "Michael... But you do realize that we're not at Liverpool or Manchester and we can't hire a trainer specifically for each muscle? But here's what I can do... I still have to hire a U18 coach anyway and I'll choose someone who has a focus on technique. He will take over your technical training. Satisfied?"

Walker was a little surprised. With that I took the wind out of his sails. But he persisted. That was probably just a hook to get rid of me. “Well,” said Walker. “Football is a martial art, so you can't get very far with gymnastic exercises like that. I think that might be good for mobility, but we're not ballerinas like you once were! This is about a duel, asserting yourself, sometimes enduring pain, just fighting! It’s just a man’s sport.”

I just thought: “Just train with professional ballerinas once, you wimp!” But I kept my mouth shut. “And you think I have no idea about that?” I simply answered questioningly. Walker grinned broadly: "You're certainly fit, but if I bump into you, you'll fly 5 yard sacross the field and won't get up again!" The team murmured in agreement.

“You would have to get to the point where you can meet me first. “You’re big, heavy and massive.” Walker smiled contentedly. “Immobile and slow.” Walker’s gaze darkened her. I read from his forehead: “What is the stupid cow imagining. I breathe it in!” “… and stupid,” I snapped. "Before you hit me, you're already lying on the floor and moaning, little macho!" I deliberately provoked him and he seethed, the artery in his neck pulsating. His male honor was hit head-on. But I had little choice to gain respect and it would shut him and the team up.

“What do you mean?” Walker was angry and confused. “Is it so hard to understand...are you not only moving slowly, but also having a hard time understanding? Try to hit me... go!” I danced back and forth in front of him and made somewhat awkward boxing movements. Walker didn't suspect anything and became angry. He didn't want to let the little girl show him off. He also shouted: “You all heard it. Your responsibility!” And stormed towards me.

That was easy. With a lunge and a twist of my body, I dodged to the side and he fell into the void. He growled a little, but still didn't stop and lunged at me again, trying to knock me over. He wasn't expecting anything, he was slow, so it was easy to hit him on the chin with a sidekick, a ushiro ashi yoko geri. He fell over like a wet sack and lay there stunned. Then he rubbed his chin and got back up.

I smiled and said, “I know, I’m mean. But, it seemed to me… but, it seemed to me..." I now looked at everyone: "You needed a lesson. You know: Never judge a book by its cover! So…. And now let’s go over the tactics for the next friendly!”

I spent the last night diligently practicing and planning with the SI Football Manager game and dutifully memorized all the football terms in English in order to make an impression. The gentlemen seemed satisfied. Now football technique should be practiced again and the coach took over. I said goodbye and heard a murmur from somewhere: “She’s really bad medicine!” I took that as praise. But I would only be truly recognized if a tactic I had chosen was successful.

At the office, Marcus “Hiob” Browning delivered the next message, fitting the nickname I had chosen for him. That was the game plan for the season. “Of course, of course, what else,” was all I thought when I saw our opening encounter. It was away against Ebbsfleet, who were rated as safe champions by all bookmakers. And against them away. It couldn't be worse. I wasn't spared anything either. I was already picturing Willoughby's headline in my head if I or we started the season with a bang. OMG... such crap!

The groundskeeper also spoke up. He wanted to know what format the playing field should have. I decided to make it as narrow and long as possible to help my own defense and to have more space for counterattacks through the middle. Finally there was an invitation to a trial day. Browning explained to me what it was all about. Players released by clubs got together and played against each other in trial games. You could look at it and maybe find reinforcements. I sent the scouts to check it out to maybe find reinforcements.

The next friendlies were again against lower-class opponents. There was one very frustrating draw, another was won easily. However, the well-rehearsed performance still left something to be desired. Especially with the 532, which would probably be very important. Then there was a tough test against Yeovil Town FC, who were playing in the fourth division.

Ok... we were basically besieged in our half. It was a one goal game. But apart from one goal, the 532 defense bar and my hairstyle held up. The 1-0 defeat gave the fans the impression that maybe this woman from Germany wasn't so stupid after all.

Finally the last friends were unwound. The games were won, including the last one against Kettering, a club with the same reputation as us. The performance was still not satisfactory. I probably didn't concentrate enough on one system and changed too much to avoid injury to the players. That worked out quite well, but probably at the expense of being well-rehearsed. There was no changing it now. Finally, I cut back on training a bit to go to the lion's den with rested players.

Nothing had really emerged yet regarding the reinforcements. There was an interesting candidate for the left wing back position. Things looked difficult for the strikers. All candidates had advantages but also serious disadvantages. Those who could do something had psychological flaws, seemed quite selfish and lacked a truly professional attitude. Another couldn't dribble and seemed a bit mentally challenged. It didn't get any easier.

Saturday, August 6, 2016 dawned. The day of truth was upon us. We headed to Northfleet on the eastern edge of Greater London, home of Ebbsfleet United FC. The mood was depressed. People expected a slaughter, a massacre and ruin. I tried to cheer up my men. “Boys, you’ve seen what it’s like to feel too safe. “Think about Walker’s chin.” Some grinned. “Seriously… I bet”… Short pause, then everyone laughed out loud. “NO!” I shouted, also laughing: “One potential strip is enough! But seriously, Ebbsfleet will underestimate us, not take us seriously. This is our chance!” I didn’t really believe in it, and the team probably didn’t either, but at least the mood brightened a bit.

We reached Northfleet. It was a rather depressing sight compared to our beautiful Poole. And those from this town should sweep us off the square? That can't be true! Dear God, do something, please! I'll never knock out players again, really!

[Sappho]

vor 10 Stunden schrieb dtown1414:

Good read. Shaking my head reading the press conference and laughing at the same time. 

thank you very much

[bigmattb28]

11 hours ago, Sappho said:

“Think about Walker’s chin.”

This 

[Sappho]

Ebbsfleet United vs Poole Town FC

 

Stonebride Stadium, Northfleet

 

So, my first league game as a manager. I couldn't claim to be relaxed. The game was very well attended with more than 1,100 spectators. I smiled, Ebbsfleed also seemed to benefit from me and Lady Godiva. There were probably 37 fans from Poole among the spectators. A bit one-sided... .

I was too nervous to sit down and stood in front of the bench. Kick-off... we had kick-off, it started. Would they implement what was planned? We played in the 532 with wing backs. They should be careful, slow, defensive, keep their positions and secure the ball. Take speed out of the game, save energy and minimize risks. The ball was played backwards, then back and forth. Finally the ball was played forward from our defense,,, and was promptly lost, The opponent sorted himself out and passed back and forth in midfield. Ebbsfleet attacked on the left side. After a bit of careful approach in midfield, a long ball followed into our left corner of the penalty area. The Ebbsfleeter took the ball, was attacked and let it roll almost directly into the middle. Ellford-Alliyu from Ebbsfleet was completely free almost at the penalty spot and sank the ball out of reach of “Wittmann” Hutchings to make it 1-0. 1-0 in the 3rd minute.

If this continued, it would reach double digits. What now? Change the concept, attack and even more so concede goals? I considered. Meanwhile, my team took the kickoff. I shouted encouragement onto the field and had no idea whether it was being received. The ball was pushed back and forth again. Ebbsfleet crossed into our penalty area. Jamie Whisken was paying attention, gathered his courage, ignored my instructions and hit the ball out of the penalty area, it became a long ball over the Ebbsfleet midfield and defense. Richard “Arminius” Gillespie got off to the right start, exploiting his speed, outpacing the defenders and appearing alone in front of the goalkeeper. I could barely look... but he kept his nerve and put the ball in the corner. Goal. Incredible ,,,,,. 1:1 in the 6th minute.

The entire Poole bench was on its feet and cheering. I was hugged and hugged the coach myself. My pulse was in the red. Whoohoo… in return, the equalizer! So keep playing as usual. But Ebbsfleet is dangerous, always plays high balls and my short ones always look bad... this damned header weakness. This was also the case in the 13th minute. Corner for Ebbsfleet, header relay in our penalty area until the ball falls to the feet of Danny Kadwell, Ebsfleet, 3 meters in front of our goal. Again nothing to be done for “Wittmann” Hutchings. 2:1 in the 13th minute

We continue playing as usual. There are opportunities on both sides. Every corner of Ebbsfleet is dangerous. But we also have chances, even from corners, but they should be played flat on the penalty spot because we are inferior in the air. I think. In the 27th minute, Gleeson hit a corner from the right into the right corner of the six-yard box. Corby Moore, aka “Tex Murphy”, stands there and heads unchallenged towards the goal. The keeper can only deflect the ball into his own goal. 2:2 in the 27th minute .What is this? The team is incredible, never gives up. We can already leave the pitch with our heads held high, no matter how this turns out. We are not push-overs. The substitute players and the coach are highly motivated, some of them make the Becker fist. I cheer and throw my arms up.

The game continues. It remains exciting. Every high ball from Ebbsfleet is dangerous but “Arminius” Gillespie is always waiting for a counterattack. This is how it goes into the half-time break. I encourage my boys, who unfortunately don't react so well. Some seem to doubt the good ending. I'm trying to encourage them , but unfortunately I'm only partially successful. I don’t change because “never change a winning team!” Well, technically we're not winning right now, we're playing a draw. Given the initial constellation, this feels like a victory.

Kick-off for the second half. We are holding up well but our weakness in the heading section is a serious problem. In the 48th minute, “Wittmann” Hutchings, our keeper, waves to me after he blocked a shot. I wave back. “Yes, well done!” Nice, the boy. My coach draws my attention to the fact that the keeper is injured and wants to be substituted. I can not believe it. That too. Rees, the substitute, is far from well-rehearsed. That can be cheerful. “Vagr” Tallack isn't having his best day but I made a mistake and didn't have a full-time defender on the bench. I can only hope he gets better. It remains exciting but no goal is scored. Then in the 72nd minute I replace 2 exhausted midfielders, just before a corner. Ebbsfleet takes the corner, my defenders are in a deep sleep and Kadwell, Ebbsfleet, can head in the middle of the goal in the six-yard box completely unhindered.

3:2 in the 73rd minute

I know there's more to it and whether I lose 4:2 or 3:2 won't be decisive. We attack, the wing backs have to support, a midfielder also supports the attack. Ebbsfleet can now counterattack and does so. It's extremely dangerous, they keep appearing in front of our goal, but we're lucky.

My team is now putting pressure on Ebbsfleet, real pressure but often too hastily. Time is running out. Ebbsfleet looks exhausted. Not us, we saved our breath. In the last 10 minutes my team takes full risk, total attack, they force another corner in the 89th minute. It is hit flat on the left corner of the penalty area and passed straight into the center, where Michael Walker is free. He shoots, the ball deflects... and somehow ends up in the goal. Equalizer 3:3

3:3 in the 89th minute

Okeeehh...sex is great. But have you ever equalized for the third time against the big favorites and that in the 89th minute?

Then it stays that way. We also get through the 2 minutes of injury time unscathed. My team is overjoyed... Unbelievable...Willoughby, take this!

I look at my men. Everyone thinks the same as me:

“What a match!”


 

[Sappho]

The next game is always the hardest

 

The game against Ebbsfleet caused a certain tremor. Even my landlady, Mrs Thornycroft, congratulated me with shining eyes and said something like: “Show them that we women can achieve anything!”

The press was divided. Nobody except “Willy” Willoughby could deny that we had played well and “Willy” also had to be careful because otherwise he would spoil things for the fans in Poole if he reported too obviously one-sided. He described the team as average and stated that Ebbsfleet had not been able to meet expectations. The others cheered and were full of expectation and hope that success would not just be a flash in the pan.
After the game is before the game and the next game was on Tuesday, August 9th, 2016. It was against Maidenhead FC at home at the Tatnam Ground, as Poole Town FC's stadium was called. The so-called football experts, i.e. those who saw us as vastly inferior to Ebbsfleet and predicted our relegation, i.e. these experts also regarded Maidenhead FC as belonging to the wider circle of promotion aspirants.

We were in 10th place in the table and I was wondering whether I should take a chance on that. Who knows how long we would last there?

The question now was how we should appear. If you looked at the statistics of the game against Ebbsfleet, we were not only lucky but kept up well. I also wanted to let top performers in the midfield rest so as not to burn them out early. So I decided on a 4-4-2 with a linear midfield formation in order to be able to bring in two fresh players on the left and right.

Then I received good news from the assistant. Goalkeeper “Wittmann” would only be out for one day and “Komischer Kunde” would be fit again in two days.

But my assistant wouldn't be my assistant if he hadn't had a bad one too. Now the team complained that there was a lack of tactical training. They should have that, I thought, putting teamwork at the heart of training for this first English week in England.

A club was also interested in a player from the U23. We were actually quite well positioned in midfield and so I was able to create some financial space for new signings in defense and attack. So Burbridge was given up for nothing.

Clive Robbins reported on a new sponsorship deal worth around €8,000 p.a. a. should bring in. Yes, as a reminder, we are not at Bayern Munich or Real Madrid but in the 6th English league. What would that be in Germany? Association league? National league? So very far down. The sponsor was a manufacturer of vermouth and saw synergy potential with Robbins' gin in the form of sets for mixing martini cocktails, the "Poole Town FC Sundowner Set", consisting of a bottle of Lady Godiva Gin and a bottle of dry Vermouth from him and two cocktail glasses. “The day goes, Gudrun comes,” said Robbins with dry humor.

Edited March 4 by Sappho