Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'irreverent tomfoolery'.
Found 2 results
I don’t regret what I’ve done. Nor do I regret how I ended up here, with my once-promising career thrown onto the ash heap of history, thanks to a single moment of madness. Ok...ok…ok… It was a series of individual, yet arguably "connected" moments (only in the temporal sense, mind you) culminating into one big, colossal ****-up that makes everything else pale in comparison. More than a year later, and nothing can wash the bitter taste of regret from my mouth. I have not shaken the shame I felt – and still feel – at having been unceremoniously told to pack my things and leave the Zubieta training grounds forever, a once-promising career in tatters. No thanks for all those years, in the service of Real Sociedad, as a player and then part of the backroom staff. No, not for me. My humiliation and disgrace complete, I did the only reasonable thing. No, not that. No, not horse tranquilizers, either. What the ****ing **** is wrong with you?! No, I did the responsible thing. At least, I tried to. I started anew. A new life. In a new city. Away from the siren song of football. It didn't take. Still, she called to me, that sweet temptress… …and I could not resist her tender embrace, not when my phone began to ring again. And not when an opportunity arose that I did not expect – an opportunity I could not turn down, that could see me get things back on track in short order. And so I found myself on distant shores, far from the bright lights and my home in northern Spain, where my nascent career in management had been so cruelly snuffed out before it had truly began. More importantly, as I stepped off the plane, the darkness that had surrounded me this past year has not dissipated. It remains. Yet now I stand in the darkness without fear or trembling, laughing with my heel on its throat. Because I’ve learned something. The darkness has served a purpose. It has shown me that seeking to forget the past is nothing but a fool’s errand. No…in order to find redemption, one must remember. Never forgive. Never forget. Because revenge is a dish best served cold. And when I’m through, none will dare laugh at my expense.
With the end of my FM 17 "Nearly Men" save, I wanted to take a little break. A quite a break it was… Within a matter hours, I’d bought and downloaded FM 18, my mind already starting to consider different ideas for a journeyman save. This is that save. Nothing fancy. No “rules” to speak of. No pre-defined goals of any kind. Just a journeyman’s jaunt across Europe (and beyond…?), wherever the winds take me. Along the way, I’ll focus on youth development and stick with hipster tactics. I have no pre-determined path or clubs. That being said, I sincerely doubt you’ll see me at any “big” club. I’d rather build something, it’s just far more enjoyable. This time, I will stick around and enjoy the fruits of my labor as well, instead of resigning after achieving success. Basically, whatever feels “right” in the narrative will determine the path. But what does that really mean? Last time around, my save was guided by one simple question, “What would Hakan do?” This time, however, there is no Hakan. Hakan has had his day in the sun. Gunnar did, too. That isn’t to say that there won’t be a few familiar faces along the journey…there absolutely will be. In due course. That being said, our journey will start with one person who was never fully explored in the Hakan/Gunnar story. Someone I always wanted to feature more closely. The guiding principle of this save will be quite simple, really... You just have to ask yourself… “What would Stalin do?”